Runaway
by Miss Whip
Summary: Based on two Inception Kink prompts from the LJ group. Ariadne runs away to protect herself, the team, and her unborn child from an outside threat. Will they be able to find her and get rid of the threat in time?
1. Run Run Runaway

**Runaway**

Rated M: For Language, Violence, and Possible sexual situations.

Summary: Based on a prompt from the Inception_Kink LJ. Two actually. I do intend to go full fanfic on this one, over-drama, last minute run-ins, etcetera. More fun that way.

* * *

Here are the Prompts:

Ariadne's been receiving threatening messages from someone who knows about the team. She decides to runaway when she discovers that she's pregnant with Arthur's child, wanting to keep it and the others safe.

Bonus if she's fairly good a hiding due to her spending all the time with the team.

Extra bonus: When they find her they have to pick her up and haul a struggling Ariadne to a safe house in order for the team to talk some sense into her. I would love you forever if Eames was doing the hauling.

How the team finds out about her pregnancy is up to you.

(AND)

Ariadne pregnant/labor/delivery

* * *

Ariadne found herself slammed hard against the alley wall. The rough texture of the brick scrapped her arms.

"Where are they?"

"I don't know!"

He slapped her, "Don't lie to me!"

She tasted a bit of blood, "I'm not! Cobb never let us go to each other's homes so that we couldn't tell."

Her assailant thought about it for a minute, "Where you do you fuck that pretty boy then?" The grin on his face was disgusting, "Does he spring for a hotel room or does he just screw you against a wall in an alley like this?"

Ariadne didn't bite, "Wouldn't you like to know?"

The man grabbed her face and pressed her back, his finger digging into her cheeks, "You tell loverboy that we're gonna get him. Him, and Cobb, and that little British fucker Eames. That stunt in Mombasa was the last time they fucked with Cobol!"

She was released and he watched as she walked away from him.

"Oh, and little architect?"

Tentatively, she turned.

"I know where you live, and I'll be watching. So if he shows up, you better make it worth his while, because the minute I see him." He aimed his fingers at her like a gun.

Afraid to glance back, she took off running down the street.

Her neighbors peeked around the corner and out of the peepholes on their doors as she came into the apartment complex. French whispers began to pass up and down the hallways. _The graduate student has gotten herself into some trouble, hasn't she?_

With trembling hands, she fumbled the keys before practically falling into her tiny abode. She slammed the door behind her, sliding every lock into place.

For a moment she was still, and then suddenly she felt a strange sensation in her stomach. She barely made it to the bathroom in time to throw up what little breakfast she'd had.

As she recovered against the wall, her legs haphazardly folded up underneath her, she turned over her purse and dumped the contents out on the floor. Cobol's errand boy had stolen her cell phone. Somewhere between leaving the morning cafe and being dragged into the back alley, he had grabbed the item from her, she'd felt the tug on her purse.

Was she only fooling herself to think that they couldn't trace her cell phone? Rubbing her eyes, she sighed, she couldn't call the team from her land line, surely that was tapped.

She couldn't go to them, any location would be tagged. Being only a student, she didn't have covert contacts that she could send in her place. Even calling from a pay phone if she could find one, there was no guarantee that would work. Meeting with them was out of the question.

In all this, one thought came through, why hadn't he attacked before now? Arthur had been over to her place a month ago, and for the last two months since the Fischer job, they'd been meeting. Damned if she'd ever tell him how fun it was to actually book a hotel room for a clandestine meeting on the weekend.

There were two things she knew for certain. She couldn't make any contact with the team, or anyone connected with the team, without compromising them. She also couldn't stay in her apartment. Maybe he'd let her go for now, but if she stayed, she'd either become bait, or dead.

The only one she could reasonably run to was Saito. He had enough money to keep himself safe, especially from the likes of Cobol. If the hit-man knew she was going to the businessman though, he would certainly cut her off at the pass. She would have to jump around a bit.

One of her student bags would suffice to travel with. Taking up the few possessions that she couldn't bear to part with, she packed the duffel threw it toward the front door.

Ariadne picked up her purse and dumped it across the coffee table. Digging out her license and credit cards, she set them aside. Everything, including her Starbuck's frequency card, had to be left behind. It wasn't like her coffee club had gotten much use in France; it was practically a sin to have in Paris.

Retrieving scissors, she chopped up the cards into small pieces. The substantial money she'd earned in the Fischer job had never made it to the bank to begin with. In traditional student fashion, it was tucked into an envelope under her mattress. It found a new home in her jacket pocket.

A note to Arthur was next, as cold as she could make it. The photograph they had taken while touring Alcatraz was first turned down, then, on better consideration, put away into the bag. It was far too happy a picture for the location, it seemed appropriate to take it with her.

_"Arthur. Had to leave. Don't look for me, don't come find me. Stay away from all my old hang-outs. I love you, I'm sorry."_


	2. Cracks in the Walls

Chapter 2: Cracks in the Walls

(I'm trying out short chapters for the first time, and I think I might like it, but incur the wrath of some readers?)

* * *

The hitman was a smoker. It was habit he'd fallen into rather easily, being that the cigarette drag was an easy way of establishing street credibility and was good for blowing smoke in the face of whatever poor sap he was intimidating at the moment.

The most recent was currently exiting her apartment complex, travel bag in hand. She looked disheveled, upset, and close to panic. Her tiny frame seemed to be struggling with the heavy bag.

That was the most he'd ever actually seen of her, new girl that she was. It pissed him off to have to deal with her, though he was mostly mad at himself over that one. He'd been too slow on the draw when he'd seen Arthur exiting the building two months ago. Since then, loverboy had stayed stateside with Cobb and she'd gone to see him.

It was too bad that she would have to be killed at the end of all this, he mused, she wasn't hard on the eyes.

Cobol wanted them all dead. The three heavy hitters especially, but the others would come later. He'd gotten word yesterday that they'd pinned down the chemist and he went easy, without a fight.

Grinning, his ash fell from his cigarette. On his right, his own point man slunk up from the shadows.

"Alright, you follow her. Keep her running, keep her paranoid. You see Cobb, or Arthur, or Eames, kill them."

"Absolutely." The man started away.

"Hey! Do me a favor, try not to kill her until after you kill them this time? You didn't even give us time to use that other one." The cigarette flicked from his fingers.

"I got it."

* * *

Ariadne doesn't know how long she'll be running for. Maybe if she stays away for long enough, Cobol will forget about her and she'll be able to return to some semblance of a normal life.

A normal life without Arthur, a life that it might not be worth her time to return to.

Thus, her choice of hotel is a smaller one, a Parisian bed and breakfast style accommodation big on quaint and low on cash.

She has a list of names that she never showed the boys, something they recommended to her. Hiding monikers, devoid of any connection to her real name.

Today, she is Audrey de la Fe. Before the list is over, she'll be Spanish, Russian, British, South African, and Australian. Any name will pass for American really, so she has to be careful where she identifies herself as such. American passports will tip off the team. Stick to overbooked tourist areas where she won't be so obvious.

The bed was plush and it sunk down under her weight. Despite the cheaper price, the room was lovely. She doesn't get to enjoy it for long. The sickness rises in her stomach again and she thanks God for the private bathroom.

None of the food she managed to eat stayed down. Stressed though she was, it baffled her that the anxiety was still causing her to throw up at every available moment. She couldn't afford to be sick, not now. Tucking her gun into her belt, covered by her jacket, she headed out to find a convenience store.

Under normal threats, she might hunker down in her room, refuse to be seen, but in this case, she didn't know how that would help. Instead, hair tucked under her cap, sunglasses perched upon her nose, she wandered.

* * *

"Hi! You've reached Ariadne! I can't come to the phone right now – "

Arthur clicked the phone shut and set it back down on his desk. A week now and he hadn't been able to contact his lover. He gave a little leeway for the hell that was graduate school, but he was starting to get that little worried voice in his head.

"She's still not there huh?" Cobb looked up from his work tuning the PASIV device.

"No."

"Maybe she's finally come to her senses, darling, and kicked you to the curb."

"Funny." Arthur was droll in his response, looking at the surly Brit as he lounged on a desk, "You do know they have chairs now? And that you're supposed to be earning your paycheck?"

"I'm paid hourly, no rush."

"Tell Saito that."

"Aww, is the little point man going to rat me out to the boss? Really Arthur, never pegged you as a member of the establishment."

Arthur sighed, and Dom motioned for the Forager to leave the room, "C'mon Eames, let me talk to him."

"Oh you corporate slaves, capitalist pigs." Eames feigned hurt in a most unconvincing way, laughing as he was, "I fucking love it."

He left the room.

"Why don't you take the weekend off? Go see her?"

"If she's avoiding my calls, the last thing I want to do is show up on her doorstep."

"Did you email her?"

"No," Arthur sighed and ran his hand through his slicked back hair, "I don't believe in email."

"Then mail her a letter, or, just go see her."

"Like I said – "

"Why don't you just go and see if she's there and just working? If she is, you can swoop in and take her out for dinner. If she's not, well," Dom waved a screwdriver in the air, "Then you have your answer."

"You're suggesting I spy on her."

"No, no, I would never suggest that. Never did. Not in any legal context anyway."

The point man had a half smile, half fear induced lip twinge. He never cracked under pressure, it wasn't him, but the notion that he could go to Paris and catch their little architect in another's mans arms was frankly, a little unnerving. He was lying to himself, it was terrifying.

He gathered up his jacket and briefcase, "I'll call you when I land in Paris."


	3. The Walls Come Tumbling Down

Chapter 3: The Walls come Tumbling Down

A/N: So as a review pointed out, I accidentally referred to Eames as the Forager, not the Forger! Damn reliance on spell check, that didn't even occur to me as I read over the chapter for proofing it. Sorry about that!

* * *

Stomach relaxers, flu remedies... anything and everything she could reasonably get.

A subtle black purse was next, to replace her now too flashy red one. The red one was cute, she'd miss it.

The little sundry store had everything.

She'd kept a few pieces from her former life, namely, her event planner. Every time she looked at it, it reminded her that she might have something to go back to. There was a small amount of sick satisfaction when she looked at the tests she wouldn't be taking, even though she knew it would hurt her grades. Miles would cut her some slack, that much she knew.

She flipped through the pages thoughtfully. Coffee here, study date there, a tryst with Arthur the weekend after next.

The numbers looked odd to her after a minute. Flipping back a few pages, she traced down the dates with her index finger. Then, she flipped forward and regarded the book.

"Oh god."

* * *

He knocked louder. Still nothing.

Arthur leaned down and peered in through the keyhole. He could make out very little from that vantage point, and found it to be a rather

Reaching into his pocket, looking around as he did so, he plucked out the spare key that she'd given him awhile ago. Dom would kill him if he knew the point man had that little piece of carved metal.

Slipping inside quickly, he closed the door behind him without a sound. His coat swirled around his body.

Something was wrong here, he could feel it. The place was even more disorganized than usual, except for a few selectively placed items on the coffee table. Her license, anything with a bar code or tracking device in it; all lined up next to each other as if for inspection. There was a note under her cell phone.

His eyes traced the letters, obviously written fast, or under duress. When the message sunk in, his analytical skills ground to a halt and he just stood there. Arthur read it again, and again.

Not for one second did he doubt that she loved him.

Looking up, the point man sighed, "I suppose you're the reason for this?"

"Correct."

Arthur hit the floor and a pillow exploded in a shower of feathers. The gunshot had alerted the neighbors, the nearest police station was 10-15 minutes away. The clock was ticking on him to find out what this man knew.

He yanked his gun from underneath his jacket and lined up his shot. Right arm, forearm.

The second gun blast rang out, and the hitman dropped his weapon, clutching the broken limb, "Damnit!"

Scrambling to his feet, Arthur kicked the man back against the wall.

Not about to go easily, the hitman began to fumble in his pocket for something and quickly put the item in his mouth. Arthur connected with a fist right to his stomach and the pill came flying out.

Poison pill.

"You didn't think you were the first to try that on me, did you?"

The hitman was silent, staring at him.

"By the way, you're really bad at your job."

The butt of Arthur's gun connected with the man's head and the brutal force of it knocked him into unconsciousness. He closed the front door and locked it. Ariadnes' scarves, still hanging on the door hooks, made for quick ties for the hands and feet. She'd kill him if she saw him doing that.

Dragging the body over to the window, Arthur pulled open the glass panels and threw the man onto the fire escape. He knew he was risking being seen out of personal windows, but it was a fair guess that the police wouldn't be able to.

Something in him was very grateful that hitmen weren't the huge hulking brutes from the movies, and that her fire escape was the kind installed between two buildings after the fact. It was slow going, slower than he wanted, but he kept at it. If nothing else, he was happy that the hitman would wake up covered in bruises.

* * *

She was trying to remember what had happened two months ago. Everything was a glossed over blur of image and sensation. They met in Paris for the weekend, with her absolutely determined to loosen the knot in his tie.

The taste of the wine; a sweet, fruit-filled dessert variety. How many glasses had it been? Surprisingly, he had more than a few himself. His wine had been drier, more refined than hers, she remembered wrinkling her nose when she tried it.

They finished the restaurant evening with a glass of something exotic, something she'd only tried once before and he found over-hyped, though tasteful. Doubs Mystique; it was a taste they acquired together.

It must have been that last little push of proof that had done it.

With his guard down even slightly, he pushed her up against the wall, holding her there with this body. They kissed, deeply, with his hands gripping the backs of her thighs.

She didn't even remember if she'd remembered to lock the door.

Some part of her recalled begging him to take her into the bedroom, or just take her, she didn't know which.

He had complied, of that she was certain. The next hour or so was spent lying on bed sheets, her exposed skin chilled while the skin he touched fairly burned. Lips found their way across every sensitive part of her, intimates parts that only he was allowed to see; to feel. He professed his love while his tongue and fingers worshiped every inch of her.

She returned the favor in kind, and was rewarded by seeing every muscle in his body tense and flex. That image stood out vividly.

Past the first touches, her mind went blurry. Everything devolved into a sensory overload of thrusts, rocking hips, and the beads of sweat that fell from one lover's body to the other's.

She wasn't sure if she had the alcohol to blame, or their general mutual foolishness.

The next morning when she'd woke, and dragged herself groggily in a post-bliss haze to the bathroom; that was when she had noticed it. She forgot so many things.

She forgot before, and she must have suppressed the jolt after otherwise she would have thought about it since.

Standing there in the sundry shop, she felt like the girl everyone was staring at, someone who had just done something incredibly stupid.

The question of why almost outranked the elephant in the room. The giant elephant that was threatening to trample her under these particular circumstances.

* * *

Arthur pulled the man into the next building and kicked open the grate. He shoved the man down into the basement and jumped in after. He'd been scouting secondary safe houses next to where she lived should this occur, and while this one wasn't up to par, it would have to do. An abandoned maintenance tunnel that had been blocked off for safety reasons.

His phone was out in a minute, Dom picked up on the second ring, "Hello?"

"Hey Dom, it's Arthur."

"You in Paris?"

"Yes, in Paris and already racking up assault charges."

"What's going on?"

"Ariadne's on the run, apparently, somebody scared her off."

"And I'm guessing you've already gotten your hands on that somebody?"

"Two bit hitmen, you have to love them."

"Eames and I will be there as soon as we can." Dom sighed, "In the meantime, try to get as much information out of him as you can."

"I don't have the PASIV device."

"I meant the old fashioned way."

On the ground, the hitman moaned, waking up.

"Fine. Bring me a change of clothes then."

The conversation ended, and Arthur put his phone back in his pocket. He peeled off his jacket and set it aside, rolling up his sleeves before returning to the bound man. Kneeling in front of him, Arthur rested his elbows on his legs.

"Now, I'm not one for getting my suit dirty, I kind of believe that the clothes make the man. This puts me in a bit of trouble, because you've hurt someone who is very close to me. Unfortunately for you, I can't perform dream extraction, so you can either tell me what I want to know, or I can start working on you in a more, physical, sense."

The hitman looked up at him with a clenched and bruising jaw, "What's that have to do with your goddamn jacket, pretty boy?"

"The longer I have to be 'physical,' the more blood might get on it."

The man was defiant, "Well, let's see just how rough you can get."

Arthur cracked his knuckles and grinned, he didn't get to play the bad guy very much, and truth be told, he wasn't a vicious person. However, where his lover was concerned, he needed some answers.

* * *

By the time Dom and Eames arrived at the secondary safe house, it was the dead middle of the night. All around them, the city glowed and Eames gave a wistful sigh, "I do hate to spoil such a beautiful evening with torture.

Cobb rolled his eyes and jumped down into the enclosed area with Eames right behind him.

There was only one light, dim and swinging from the ceiling. The point man was cleaning his hands on his jacket begrudgingly while a moaning man lay tied up in the corner.

"What do we know?"

"He has arachnophobia." Arthur smirked.

Eames chuckled, "Well look at that, Arthur made a joke."

"What else?"

"He's from Cobol Engineering, standard level hitman. Judging by what I know about Cobol, he's not alone. They usually work in teams of three or four."

"Yeah."

"He's admitted to one other person, but it seems he operates like us. He doesn't know who the others are really."

"From the looks of you, I'm going to guess that our little Ariadne is still safe and sound somewhere?" Eames popped a tidbit of food in his mouth, leftover peanuts from the airplane.

"Not exactly. Seems he's got her on the run. The other hitmen are following her, hoping we'll come to her, or her to us."

"They don't want to kill her?"

"Nope, standard Cobol practices. They want us first, and then they'll go for her and probably Yusuf. Saito would be too hard to get."

The hitman laughed.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing."

"Eames, call Yusuf, tell him to get stateside."

"Right." The Brit pulled out his cell phone and dialed to the little sedative shop.

"Hello? I need to speak with Yusuf."

Arthur and Dom stared at each other.

"What?" Eames turned towards them, "Are you sure?" He paced a bit, listening, "Alright then, thank you I guess."

"What's going on?"

"He's been missing for at least three weeks. The man who runs the little sleepytime operation in the basement said there were signs of a struggle, but no blood."

"Maybe he's still alive."

"It's possible, they want us first, took him as bait."

"They picked pretty slim bait then, mates. Yusuf was only with us for one job, they didn't know if we'd come after him."

"But they knew I'd go after her."

"'Fraid so, darling."

"Why not just kidnap her?" Dom looked confused, staring down at the hitman.

He laughed again, and the extractor hauled him up bodily by his shirt collar, "What's going on?"

"Just a little added distraction, that's all." The hitman kept laughing.

* * *

Ariadne sat on the floor of her hotel room bath. She had never been one to cry, it wasn't a very adequate solution to any problem.

However, at this moment, she couldn't stop the tears from sliding down her cheeks.

Of all the things she could have forgotten; it couldn't have been a minor class assignment?

Instead, the unopened box she forgot mocked her all the way from her abandoned apartment. On the counter, next to the tiny, still-wrapped soaps and miniature hair care bottles, the truth was right in the room with her.

Three different brands, two apiece, and six consistent results.

She was a perfectionist, what could she say?

Brushing away the tears, she stared at the tiled wall before her. In seven months she'd have to find somewhere secure. In seven months she'd have to look down at a tiny life she would be responsible for and wonder if Arthur would ever get to meet their child.


	4. Losing Control of the Situation

Chapter 4: Losing Control of the Situation

A/N: One reviewer mentioned that they don't like seeing a pregnant woman have a tough time… I should warn you that you may not want to read any more, because it's about to get really rough on her in the coming chapters, sorry!

Please review if you read!

I promise it will speed up soon, I wanted to post this because I'm moving soon and I have a commission to work, so it may be a bit before the next chapter is up.

* * *

Number three out of four liked to style herself after an assassin from a Tarantino film.

She eschewed cigarettes in favor of liquor drinks with cherries in them. She whistled when she walked, and sauntered, letting her hips slide back and forth. She liked poison, but kept a handgun in her coat and a dagger in her knee-high leather boots.

It was obvious, when one looked at her, that they were dealing with someone who did not deal in subtlety. For her own purposes, she didn't hide often and considered it honest to look like you were coming to kill someone if in fact you were doing such a thing.

Her boots clicked on the pavement and sunk slightly into the grass of the lawn.

There was nothing to alarm her, nothing to indicate that she had been seen, or even heard. Maybe she stuck out like a sore thumb in suburbia, but maybe, the neighbors didn't want to see anything really.

Cat's away.

They paused as she approached.

"Hello there."

She knelt down, "How are you?"

"Fine."

"My name is Isabella, what's yours?"

The older one spoke, "I'm Phillipa, he's James."

"It's very nice to meet you." They shook her offered hand dutifully, a taught gesture.

"Is your daddy home?"

"No, Daddy went away, and grandpa and grandma went to the store."

"Who's watching you?"

"Amy." Phillipa looked down at a flower she found, and rocked back and forth, trying to avoid Isabella's eyes.

Isabella looked over her shoulder and saw the faintest hint of a moving person behind the living room curtains. What kind of a babysitter let the kids outside to play and didn't watch them?

"Do you like Amy?"

"She's okay," James whispered, and Phillipa countered, "She sometimes, she makes us go to bed early, and I don't like that."

"Oh, I see." The older woman smiled, "Well, what if I told you that you didn't have to worry about Amy babysitting for you, ever again?"

"I don't know."

"Close your eyes."

The children were skeptical, but they did it. Isabella stood up, and watched the moving figure for a minute. "Now remember, keep them closed, no peeking!"

She lined up her shot, one bullet to the head, and they'd have to get new carpet in the living room.

Phillipa shrieked when the gun went off.

* * *

Cobb immediately went for his cell phone. He had barely begun to dial when a call came in.

"Hello?"

"Dom, it's Miles."

"What's wrong?"

"Someone's taken the children. We came home from the store, and they were gone. They also killed our babysitter."

Running his hand aggressively through his hair, Dom paced, "It's gotta be Cobol."

"Cobol? They still have a bounty on your head?"

"Apparently me and Arthur. They've gone after Ariadne too."

"What should I do?"

"I don't know, we're already looking for them. Ask around, see if anyone you know there or in France has any information. If anyone calls for ransom, give them whatever they want."

"Alright.

The phone went dead, and Arthur stared at his friend, "Ransom?"

Cobb let his hand fall to his side, "Cobol took the kids."

Eames stood there, unsure of what to do, "I'm so sorry Dom."

Arthur took a deep breath, "We need a plan."

The Brit walked over to where the hitman lay on the ground and pulled him by the collar, "Are you sure you beat this one soundly, darling? Maybe he's got more to tell us."

"Doubtful, he seems pretty tapped out."

"Well, it looks like we need some help then."

Dom grew more agitated by the minute, "Help? You mean the trackers?"

"Yes." Arthur looked to the hitman and then back to his partners, "Let's go upstairs, see who's available."

Out of hearing of Cobol's man, they logged onto a masked computer in the abandoned building.

"Where do the trackers hang out these days?"

"Little Disney princess message boards." Laughed Eames, logging on.

Arthur directed him down through the layers of coding. Oddly enough, Eames wasn't joking. Over populated, sugary sweet, and completely misdirecting kiddie movie forums were the perfect place to hide conversations from Cobol.

Together, they opened an encrypted message and sent out the signal. It would only be open for a minute, maybe less. An anonymous cry for help, no information, just an SOS that only so many people would notice. Once anyone tried to crack it, it would shut down forever and leave no trail  
back to them.

Out of all the people who owed favors to Cobb and his group, nearly a hundred or so, there was no discernible response. Arthur ran the numbers again.

"Did the signal complete?

"Wait. Yes, three times."

"Do we know who?"

"No, but looking at the bits and pieces of the code I got, maybe one from the states, the rest are outside."

* * *

The first hitman had found a sharp broken piece of the wall. He rubbed the scarf material that bound his hands against it, damn lucky that the shock of the kidnapping had allowed him some alone time. Eames might have seen fit to knock him about the head if he'd been left to babysit him.

Her scarf may have felt tight around his wrists, but shredded easily.

This particular safehouse was secondary for a reason. It had yet to be fitted with custom electronics, filled with specialized weaponry, and it lacked the proper chairs for a PASIV device extraction against someone's will. It had also to have its vents entirely sealed.

He was out and running in a few minutes, laughing the whole way.

* * *

The network on the internet was almost as large and malleable as any created dreamscape.

On a message board for the British series, "Spaced," a couple of real fans were discussing something a little more substantial than cast performance.

"Keep an eye out."

"Of course."

"Call me if you need anything. The third party is keeping a distance for now."

"Are you going to be taking a walk in his backyard?"

"I've always wanted to take a safari."

"Keep an eye out for small game then."

"See you soon."

The messages disappeared from the side board before the admin even had a chance to remind the two users to stay on–topic.

* * *

She kept feeling eyes on her, real and not.

The woman at the front counter was asking more and more questions, requesting information that was none of her business.

After nearly a month of laying low in the local rue, she felt the need to move on. Certainly, if the team was tracking her, they would have moved away from Paris long ago. They'd have followed false trails to her family in New York State, her undergraduate college town, her favorite vacation locales. No one would have expected her to remain so close to the scene of the crime.

The woman at the counsel held out her hand for her boarding pass, she looked it over and then opened Ariadne's passport.

"Miss Couteau. Heading home I see?"

"Yes."

"I hear Johannesburg is lovely this time of year."

"Quite, thank you for saying so."

"Have a wonderful flight." She handed back the ID's, "Next please!"

Ariadne slung a new travel bag over her shoulder and walked down the long boarding tunnel. The ground clanked under her feet, every sound was amplified. It seemed a very long time before she got out and marched herself to her seat in coach.

The bag fit neatly at her feet, and she let herself lean against the side of the plane.

As the jet engines roared and the pressure against her ears built, she let her hand fall to her stomach. The thoughts in her head were louder than the noise outside the plane.

"I'm sorry baby, but to protect you and your father, I need to keep us apart."


	5. All Things Russian

Chapter 5: All Things Russian

A/N: Sorry about delays, the move from house to house has been hell, and slow, and internet deprived.

* * *

Arthur had thought things were bad when Mal killed herself. He'd never seen him cry before that night. The extractor, bent over double in his chair, hand's clasped together, hot tears streaming down his cheeks.

Some part of him, even in all his rationality, wanted to see that raw emotion again.

Cobb had gone from agitated to angry, and now, he just stared ahead at the wall in front of him. Every now and again, he pulled out the top and set it on whatever level surface he could find. It spun, and no matter how much he willed it to keep spinning, it always wobbled and twirled and the curved edge hit the surface with a clink.

It would do his friend no good to lose his senses right now, but he gave leeway to time for adjustment.

The point man was fighting his own demons, although less publically. Behind closed doors, he would flop down on a chair, let the back of his suit get wrinkled and pull out the scarf he'd saved from her apartment. He twisted the fabric around his fingers; let the silk slide through them. Even though he knew he should focus on the task at hand, he allowed his thoughts to wander back to desperate nights.

He would not lose his mind, not now. Ariadne was out there somewhere, and Cobb's children. Not to mention the possibility of having Yusuf's blood on his hands for having involved him earlier. It was somewhat shameful to think of his own loss at a time like this. Cobb had already lost Mal, and now, to face the chance of losing the little children who referred to him as "Uncle Arthur?" It was a turn of fortune's wheel that he'd rather not see spun. Focusing on the most horrid situations, worrying too much, it didn't help them.

He was the point man; he remained on point no matter what.

So Arthur buried his own needs in his work and returned to his research with a vengeance. While Cobb poured over every holding block, prison cell, and offshore drill site that Cobol owned, Arthur scoured the internet for records of single female passengers matching descriptions and small children that might be travelling on recently purchased tickets. Every result was a lead that could neither be confirmed nor denied.

Hours became days. Their beaten bodies kept researching; kept looking. Already in the field, their trackers were scouring some of the more obvious areas, undetected.

* * *

New York was a terrible place to travel through. Connecting flights, overcrowded airports, and food that was relatively inedible due to price and staleness.

Isabella hated the airport. She leaned back in the chair and looked over at the two little children sitting next to her. Phillipa and James sat in the next two chairs, their heads down, looking over the kid's travel books she'd bought them.

James was still too young, he didn't understand things, he was just happy to draw and color. Phillipa would look up every now and again and glance at her kidnapper. Isabella would stare right back into her big, frightened eyes. The little girl wouldn't move for a few seconds and then return her eyes to the paper in front of her.

The hitwoman had to grin at the child's compliance. She remembered their conversation in the car.

"If you scream or tell anyone what's going on, I'll have to kill your daddy just like Amy. You don't want him to die, do you?"

Little sobs of "No," came back to her.

"Good, because I think he'd be very mad if he found out that you killed him. He's already going to be so mad at you about Amy."

Isabella didn't really like scaring children, but she hated screaming kids even more. Technically she wasn't lying that she was going to kill their father.

"Let me guess. You are a single woman, travelling alone with her two young children."

She looked up at the man. He was ordinary, nothing about him attracted attention.

"You'd be wrong."

"Then you must be Isabella, travelling with stolen children."

"You must be our fourth."

"I am." He shook her hand.

"So I assume you know where this goes?"

"The children are coming with us to Russia. Once there, I disguise them and take them back to Mombasa for safekeeping. You leave from Moscow to go and play."

Isabella laughed, "Sounds good."

He chuckled, his Russian accent kept his laughter deep in his throat.

"Do you think Cobb will take the bait?"

"Isn't it poetic? He runs to Russia, believing that we are holding his children in some kind of frozen Siberian prison."

"Very cold war."

"I can't take credit, it was Cobol's idea. He wants to see him sweat."

"That'll do it."

"Let's get in line, the plane will board soon."

Taking a firm grasp around Phillipa's wrist, Isabella pulled her up from her seat, "And we're going to be nice and quiet, aren't we?"

* * *

The second hitman was clumsy. Too young for this kind of job. The inept son of an organized crime boss who handed him over to Cobol for a blood-stained internship.

He watched Ariadne every day that she stayed in that French bed and breakfast; he followed her to the airport, even held the door for her.

He got the wrong plane tickets.

He arrived too late in Johannesburg, and she was already gone from the airport.

The hell he was going to catch for this screw up, especially if he didn't find her, would far outdo the chewing out he got for the sedative man.

Hailing a taxi, he climbed in and threw his bag onto the opposite seat.

The driver asked him where he was going, he gave the address of a non-descript international chain group, whichever was the closest.

"You haven't happened to have seen a young woman, American, tiny, with long brown hair, have you?"

"Boy, are you serious?" The cabbie laughed, "You think I don't see hundreds of people a day?"

The second hitman leaned back in the seat and ran his hands through his hair, "You're right, stupid question."

* * *

The fourth month of her pregnancy dragged in the South African city. The sunshine drenched metropolis offered little comfort.

She had changed planes here once, hung out at the airport and listened to the various melodies of language pass through the crowds. The first time she'd gotten to stay here though, wander the streets and soak in the culture, she was alone.

Her little travelling companion was silent, barely moving, only alerting her to its presence with slight fluttering. Since her original packing did not accommodate for an expanded waistline, she had shopped for a few new items to please the fit. The larger shirts hid her quite well, what with her not being ready to expose her secret to the rest of the world.

Ariadne hadn't seen any suspicious figures since she'd landed, and what with the protection of Arthur and their child on her mind, she'd been hidden but vigilant. Probably out of boredom though, she had found one little place.

A corner shop with a small café out front where she could sit; a wall obscuring her from the view of the general public. If they approached, then she came into view, but otherwise, with the hat on her head and sunglasses, she was a no one in a sea of anonymous persons.

She missed Arthur terribly.

As she sipped the flavored tea, she contemplated how she felt. Part of her ached to see him again, fall into his arms like old times and take comfort in a couple's most ancient ritual. Another little voice in the back of her head was scared to see him. Not only for his safety, but for the fact that she'd have to explain her current condition.

Would he be upset? It was a strange thought, but a legitimate concern. They'd never discussed children. Certainly, this was not the lifestyle to raise them in, but she contented herself that Cobb managed to do it.

How exactly would she start that conversation? Feeling herself crestfallen, she wondered in her head, _"Hi Arthur, I've been on the run to protect you and by the way, I'm almost halfway through carrying our child."_

"You look so sad, little one. What is wrong?"

Her big brown eyes looked up to see a friendly man. He was pronouncing the English to the best of his ability. Judging by his accent, he was Russian, or at least, it was his first language.

"Nothing, I'm fine."

"Please, I hate to see such a pretty woman cry."

She sighed, "I'm really not looking to see anyone right now."

"Oh, I am sorry; I am not trying to date you."

Ariadne gave him a weak smile and he laughed, "There you are. So, may I ask if you have a lover who has left you so sad in this way?"

"He had to leave me, for work, we didn't have a choice."

"I see. Well," He patted her shoulder, "You may take comfort that he still loves you, somewhere in this world. It is better than to have no one love you, anywhere."

"Yeah." Looking back down to her tea, she stirred honey in absentmindedly.

"Goodbye."

"Bye." The man walked away as her little word followed him.

* * *

"I've got a possible match. A man and a woman travelling with two kids that match Phillipa and James' descriptions, purchased tickets shortly before the flight."

"Where are they?"

"They left from New York on a plane bound for the Russian owned territory in Siberia."

"Siberia?" Cobb spun around in his chair.

"That's what it looks like." Arthur clicked the keys through the file data.

"What the hell does Cobol own in Siberia?"

Eames rested his chin on his hand, "I'm going to throw in my vote for, 'It's a trap, darling'."

"He's probably right."

"Either way, we have to do something."

"We can't just go charging over there."

"Look, it's obvious that Cobol wants to kill me and Arthur."

Eames chucked, "Oh don't leave me off that list."

"We should at least negotiate."

"There won't be any negotiation, he'll just shoot us."

"I'm kind of surprised at you, Arthur, all scared like a little bunny to go up against Cobol." The Brit was mocking.

The point man's jaw clenched, "You're the only one here who doesn't have something at stake, Eames."

"My point exactly. He's got your lady love on the run and you aren't willing to go see if you can get in a few shots at him? At least if you die, Ariadne can stop running."

"Thanks."

"He's got a point." Dom was looking out the factory window.

"What?"

"They won't kill my children until they get me, and I might be able to get them to let them go first."

Eames sighed heavily and ran his hand through his hair, and Arthur stared at the extractor with a look of understanding on his face.

"You do realize what you're saying, mate?"

"If it was just us, it'd be different, but these are my kids, Eames, I'm not about to step over any lines to risk their lives."

Arthur straightened his tie and rolled down his sleeves. Eames looked back and forth between the both of them.

"Guess I'll just go pack my mittens then."

* * *

The friendly man strolled down the streets. He tipped a small cup of Turkish coffee back and damn near bit his tongue at the heat and strength of the drink.

Not his favorite, but it had a taste to it that after awhile, you just had to have. He'd done two weeks in Japan and found out the same about green tea though he infinitely preferred black.

Contemplating his beverage, he grabbed his cell phone and hit the speed dial.

"Hello?"

"I think I've found something."

"It is a tiny little something?"

"Da."

"Keep an eye on her; I'm on the next flight."

"See you soon."

"Yeah, and watch your back, if she's there, one of Cobol's men can't be far behind."

* * *

The hitmen had long since moved on. That was obvious.

Throughout the tracking and the trailing, Arthur had his doubts. He didn't say anything until they got to Moscow.

It was too easy, there were too many clues.

He couldn't bring himself to tell Cobb that Eames was right, even though he knew from day one.

Originally, the two had planned to drag the team for a short trek to Moscow, Siberia, give them the old-fashioned run around.

Isabella decided to have fun with it.

When Eames, Arthur, and Cobb finally reached the last place in the frozen North that they had been led to, she'd been there.

Cobb walked into the abandoned prison. A cold war leftover crumbling to bits.

The point man leaned against a wall, watching as his friend walked over to the only piece of furniture left.

On a table, was a barrette. A tiny little pink metal one with a few plastic flower models on it. Isabella hadn't known it, but it was one that Cobb had bought his daughter when she was little, before Mal had died.

He picked it up and stared at it, turning it over in his hand. Cobol was mocking him, wild goose chases.

"They're in Mombasa for sure."

"We set one foot in Kenya, we're at a severe disadvantage."

Dom was listening, but he barely heard them, "Have we heard from the trackers?"

Eames sighed, "Yeah, they hit the ground running; have a few leads."

"Not in Mombasa?"

"No, but one is in Africa for sure, he might be heading for Mombasa."

Putting the trinket in his pocket, the leader of the group walked out of the building onto the snow covered path. They'd wasted too much time chasing this illusion of his, this dream that he would actually find them there.

Arthur stepped up next to him and the two men stood for a moment, their breath hanging in the air.

"I know they're alive. He hasn't killed them yet."

"Yeah."

"We'll get them back, Dom. Cobol's malicious, but he hasn't been able to get us yet."

"I can't lose them, not after Mal. I don't know if I can survive that, Arthur."

"We'll get them back." His tone was a little harder now.

"What about Ariadne? And Yusuf?"

At her name, the point man took in a deep breath and Cobb noticed.

"They're bait; they won't kill them until they get us."

"I know." Dom shrugged.

Both men had a hold on their totems where they were concealed in their coat pockets, neither wanting to believe that this fresh hell of a realization was real.

* * *

NOTE: Up next, more kidnapping, a chase, characters in peril, and a death. Inception would be a neat HBO miniseries premise.


	6. Cobol Strikes

Chapter 6: Cobol Strikes

A/N: You can blame this one on my fiancé. I had more, but he insisted it was best left at one point. I'm going to ask for reviews! Please review, I love them!

* * *

Ariadne was running. Fast. Tripping over her own feet as she slid around corner.

Her shoes slipped and she fell to her hands and knees, trying hard to not allow her body to slam against the ground. Tears were streaming down her cheeks as she coughed trying to breathe.

She didn't know who was chasing her, but she knew they had a gun. Every now and then, a misfired bullet clipped a wall near her and bits of rock brushed her cheeks.

"Please! Leave me alone!"

With tired legs aching as she pulled them up and down, she ran around the alleyway.

"Somebody! Help!"

It was a dead end. She slammed her open palms against the brick wall.

"Help!" Her throat was growing hoarse and she was afraid to turn and face her attacker.

"Please." Sobs escaped her throat as she leaned her forehead against the cool surface.

Someone grabbed her shoulder.

"Arthur!" Ariadne screamed, sitting up in bed. Her fingers were wrapped so tightly around the bed sheets that her knuckles were white.

It was only a dream.

She didn't dream as much as she used to, since she started doing extractions, but the ones she did have were horrific nightmares.

Rubbing her forehead, the architect sighed and felt the real tears come to her eyes. More than anything, she wanted Arthur to be here with her. Lying back down to the mattress, she wrapped her arms around her stomach, the bump now showing considerably on her small frame. Ariadne was large for only just beginning her fifth month.

"I miss your father." She whispered.

* * *

Arthur couldn't sleep, but perhaps that was for the best. Ever since they'd found out that Cobol was actively after them, the group slept in shifts at night.

Having returned to their operational base in France, he walked around the warehouse. Eames and Cobb were snoring on their respective cots.

Clad only in his pajama pants, which Eames had quite soundly reamed him about them being made of silk, he paced the length of the room.

His cell phone beeped with a reminder announcement. With tired eyes, he perused the text.

Tomorrow was the flight he was supposed to have booked. The day after that was the surprise trip he was going to take Ariadne on to the Mediterranean. A long weekend of never leaving the hotel room for the sparkling waters and sun-kissed beaches.

He wanted his lover back desperately.

Sitting there, the light from the moon streaming in, he closed his eyes for a minute and remembered.

The cool air drifted over his bare chest just like it had one of those nights.

There she was in his mind's eye. Astride his hips, her pale skin bathed in lunar light. With every thrust of her body, she moved in and out of the illuminated area. He caught glimpses of her naked breast, her delicate neck, her lips as they were slightly parted; crying out in pleasure.

Had there not been the two other men in the room, Arthur thought about what he may have been tempted to do.

"Ari," He sighed into the night. He wanted nothing more than to hold her close to him, rest his chin where her shoulder met her neck and whisper how much he loved her into her ear.

* * *

The man retrieved his passport from his pocket and handed it over to the attendant.

"Mr. Bradshaw, welcome to South Africa."

"Thank you."

"We're happy to see that some Americans still have an interest in touring here."

"Well, you know. I came over for the football and just fell in love with the place."

"Your team didn't do so bad."

"Not technically, but – "

A friendly armed wrapped itself around the American man at the counter and the ticket attendant looked up, "About as good as any American team could ever do at football, am I right?"

They all shared a good laugh and he took back the document before they walked away.

The Russian who had embraced him was still hanging on his friend, "It's good to see you again."

"Are you kidding? It's great! I was hoping I'd get a job where I'd get to work with the second best tracker in the business."

"Ah, and you are first best then?"

"Damn straight."

The men clapped each other on the back and left the airport.

"Is the third coming to join us?"

"No, strictly backup."

"Alright then." The Russian hailed a cab, "I'm going to take you to where I saw her."

"If it's just one girl, what do you need me for?"

"I'll tell you when we get to the café, I need you to watch my back."

* * *

When the second hitman came back from the market, he walked into another figure standing in his hotel room.

He felt himself gulp when the man turned to reveal Hitman 4.

"I am not supposed to be here." He walked over to the younger man, "I go and I do my job. I take the kids and leave them with Cobol, and I do it so quickly that our third, Isabella, she has time to plant little things to mess with Cobb's mind."

"She was supposed to kill Eames in Russia, wasn't she?"

"Isabella, she likes to have fun first. She's like one of those cats that bat the mouse around before snapping its little neck."

"Oh."

"We did our jobs, but I hear that you haven't done yours."

"I tried, I was following her – "

He was cut off when the fourth hitman got his by the throat, "You lost her."

"She's here in the city."

"Have you seen the size of this city?"

"No, I found her!"

The grip on his neck was released, "You did? Where?"

"I don't know where she's staying, but I've seen her at a café downtown. She was talking to some other Russian guy."

"Fine. I'm done screwing around with this. Take me there; we are taking her to Mombasa tonight."

"Alright, alright!"

* * *

"That's her?"

"Yes, I'm fairly sure."

"It looks like her. Does she know you?"

"Not really. I've talked to her once before, but she didn't really pay attention to me."

"Okay, you go approach her; I'm going to wait over here. If two men come at her, she may feel overwhelmed."

The Russian tracker nodded and meandered into the café. He waited, tried to be casual.

She was reading, something in French. With careful eyes, he read her body. She was obviously tense to be out in public, but something in her was calmed by routine.

It was then that he realized something. In this coffee driven café, she was the only one with tea.

Ariadne sighed and brushed back her hair; her arm raised and pulled on the loose fabric of her shirt.

He cursed inwardly. His secondary plan of picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder was dashed when he noticed that she was pregnant.

"Little one, you are back again?"

She started a bit and looked up at him, "Oh, hi."

"Are you from around here?"

"No."

Taking the seat across from her without being asked, he set down his coffee, "May I ask how you are feeling?"

"Same as always."

"Are you still heartbroken?"

"Wouldn't you be?"

"I suppose so," Leaning back, he took a drink, "But then again, I have never been in love."

"No?"

"No. My life is very solitary. May I ask you another question?"

"Sure."

"Does he know?"

"Know what?"

"That you are pregnant."

"What?"

"I can tell from how you look."

"Why the hell do you care?"

"It was just an innocent question."

Ariadne was ready to forgive him, but something plagued her mind. Why did this strange man suddenly seem so interested in her? As a false realization took hold of her mind, she panicked.

"You're one of his, aren't you?"

"Whose?"

She whispered back, afraid of attracting attention, "Cobol."

"No, no I am not!

"Then why are you hanging around me? There are a million people in this city and you want to talk to me?" Ariadne jolted up from the table and moved into a more open area.

"Miss Ariadne, please, I am not here to hurt you."

"Leave me alone! You leave us alone; we didn't do anything to you!"

"I am not - " But he didn't get to finish. She took off down the sidewalk at the fastest clip she could manage.

The Russian tracker restrained himself. He felt the urge to chase her, but he couldn't. In her condition, if he should scare her anymore, he could potentially injure her or the child. His debt was owed to Eames, but he knew Arthur, and his best guess was that this was his child she carried.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the American approach, "See, this is why you're second best."

"Shut up."

"Do we go after her?"

"I have pretty good idea of where she is staying."

The American sighed and nodded, "I trust you, but I want to see where else she stays." He slunk off after her while the Russian pulled out his cell phone.

* * *

As the second and fourth hitman came around the alley, they were brushed past by a quickly exiting woman. The second hitman turned, "That's her!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah!"

The fourth hitman began to run after her at full speed, and after his initial shock had passed, the second ran behind him.

Ariadne heard the footsteps and she turned and looked. She'd never seen these two before, but they didn't look friendly. Holding her stomach with her hands, she ran as best she could, turning another corner.

She felt as though she was back in her dream. The walls were growing taller and the alley seemed to grow more and more questionable.

"Help!" She shrieked, but the people around just stood by and watched, unwilling to involve themselves in what was clearly not their fight.

Her feet pounded the pavement, and she struggled hard to keep her balance.

With the next turn, she found the cruelty of déjà vu in front of her. Her dream had turned to truth. There was a wall blocking her escape. She halted and turned her back to it, eyes widened, hands protectively on her stomach.

The two hitman stopped a few feet from her.

"Hello."

Ari wasn't sure how to respond to that, so she merely let her eyes jump from one to the other.

The fourth hitman chuckled, "Look at this, two hostages for the price of one!"

"You let me go! Why come back for me now?"

The hitmen looked at one another, "No reason, really."

"What?"

"Your lover, his friends, they expect us to act logically. If we do not, then they are forced to come to us to resolve the issue." The fourth hitman walked up to her and ran his hand down her cheek. She cringed. "Besides," He continued, "No one said you get to live anyway. They go first, and you go second."

Ariadne merely stared at him coldly, unwilling to move.

"Now, I can do this the hard way," He lifted a gun from his pocket as though to strike her and she ducked, "Or, you can come quietly."

"I'll go quietly."

As Ariadne was led away, the American tracker ducked back into the shadows. He knew his decision to follow her had paid off.

* * *

"She ran from me."

"But you saw her? She's okay?"

"Yes, she appeared to be."

"Where are you?"

"Johannesburg."

"Wow, good for her. Wiley little thing gave us the slip. Why'd she run from you?"

"She thinks I am a hitman for Cobol. She watches too many James Bond movies; one Russian accent and she thinks I am Cobol KGB!"

Eames was laughing hard on the other end of the phone.

"Oh, if you are so smart, then you find her."

"Alright, alright. Thank you very much."

"There is another thing."

"What?"

"Did you know she is pregnant?" Silence was on the other end, "I am guessing, you did not?"


	7. The Return of a Friend

Chapter 7: The Return of a Friend

A/N: I'm completely serious that I'm going full fanfic on this one. A little deus ex machina, everything waiting until the last minute, close calls. The whole shebang.

This is what the last chapter was supposed to have included, so, it's short, but the next part, I wanted to keep all in one chapter.

If you love it, review it. If you like it, review it. If you hate it, review it.

Breakdown of Non-Main characters (Because my fiancé said he was having trouble keeping track):

The Russian Tracker aka (Alexi) Contracted to Eames

The American Tracker aka (Bradshaw) Contracted to Arthur/Cobb

The Third Tracker, Contracted to Eames

Hitman 1: Cobol's enforcer

Hitman 2: Youngest, clumsy, aka Ariadne's babysitter

Hitman 3: Isabella the kidnapper

Hitman 4: The Russian

* * *

Eames stared over at Arthur. The cell phone lightly buzzed on his ear.

The point man was busy researching something on a nearby computer with Cobb.

And the Forger was just standing there with the news that his uptight, silk-suited colleague had gotten that sweet little architect pregnant.

"Huh."

"Are you going to tell Arthur? The child must be his, yes?"

"Yes, it's his, but no, I don't think I'll mention it, mate."

"This is big news, Eames! How can you keep it?"

"This is the last thing he needs to be thinking about. Cobb is already a mess; I can't have Arthur lose his marbles too."

"Well, I don't agree with you, but I can see your point. I'll tell Bradshaw."

"Bradshaw is there?"

"Yes, he ran after her."

There was suddenly some commotion on the other end of the line.

"What's going on?"

The Russian tracker's voice was rushed, "Two of Cobol's men just took her off the street. Bradshaw saw it."

"God dammnit!" Eames spit the words out. He now had Cobb and Arthur's attention, "We're coming out there."

"You will be killed if you set one foot near Mombasa."

"What do you suggest?"

"We will go after them. Cobol doesn't know us."

"Alright, keep me updated."

The phone went dead.

"Who was that?"

"That was the Russian tracker. He found Ariadne, but she was kidnapped by Cobol."

Arthur looked as though he may have gotten his hopes up for a minute, but it was instantly dashed.

"He said she looks okay though, she looks healthy."

"Healthy?" Arthur looked at him with a puzzled expression.

Eames shrugged.

"So what's the plan?"

"Two of the trackers are going to infiltrate Mombasa. They're our best hope for getting them out Cobol's backyard without having to get into a shootout."

Both the point man and the extractor looked at him with frustration.

"My children are out there and I'm stuck waiting here?"

The Brit pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it up, "Alexi is an old friend of mine, and he's damn good at what he does."

It was the answer the other two men needed.

Once off the phone, the Russian tracker looked at his American companion, "Don't tell Arthur about her, we need him to think straight."

* * *

She remembered flying, blindfolded. Must have been a private airline.

She had to be in Mombasa, there was no other place that would have made sense.

Hustled out of the car, she was pushed into some kind of building. Her footsteps echoed in a hallway and at the end of the line, they stopped her and removed the barrier to her sight.

It was some kind of cinder-blocked prison. Her guards were uniformed and official looking. There was a long line of cells, and luckily for her, they were a bit on the higher end of things. The cells were separated by thick walls on the side with the front being the only wall made of bars.

At some point, the hitmen had left her, and she was in the custody of these new men.

"We have been told that you are a danger to yourself and others. Mister Cobol has asked us to put you in a single cell."

"Okay." It was all she could think of to say to them.

They were polite enough to her, avoiding any rough manhandling of her person.

She sat down on the cot and surveyed the small room. A sink, a toilet, the cot. It was desolate and she could do little more than stare at the wall.

Other prisoners were talking quietly, milling around their cells. She just listened to the clink of metal, the crush of the cots when a body fell on them.

And someone was crying.

A light little sob was coming from the cell next to hers.

"Are you okay?"

The response was soft, "I shouldn't talk to strangers."

"Oh."

Silence invaded, but the voice continued after a moment, "I miss my daddy."

"Your daddy?" Ariadne got up from the cot and walked over to the bars.

"The mean lady, she came, and she brought us here. She said she would kill my daddy."

There was a new voice, "Phillipa, I told you, we won't let that happen."

It was a male voice coming from the cell.

"Phillipa?" Ariadne asked, "Phillipa Cobb?"

The male voice came back, "Who are you?"

"My name's Ariadne, I worked with her father!"

"Ari?" Now the voice was shocked, and a hand reached out from the next cell far enough for her to see it, "It's me, Yusuf!"

Her hand shot through the bars and grabbed his, "Yusuf?"

They had never been close friends, but she had considered him lost and to run into him in a place like this, was a comfort she couldn't have asked for more.

"I thought you were dead."

"No, once they found out that I wasn't good bait, they threw me in here."

"And James and Phillipa?"

"They gave them to me to watch, I was the only one who they knew."

"Are they okay?"

"The woman who kidnapped them, she did a number on them. She told them they were responsible for her murdering their babysitter."

"What a - " Ariadne remembered that the kids weren't far away, "-Witch."

Yusuf gave a very light laugh.

"How long have you been here?"

"Months."

"Where are we?"

"From what I hear, this is a jail for political prisoners."

"It's not Cobol's?"

"No, I think he knows that would be the first place that Dom and the others would look. He put us in a regular jail to throw them off."

"There's no way out of here, is there?"

"No way except in a body bag."

* * *

Arthur managed to get hold of Eames' cell phone and went through the call list. He found the most recent number.

If he knew trackers, then they didn't take calls, they only called others.

Depending on what they were doing, it didn't benefit them to have their ring-tones go off at some of the more inopportune times.

He typed out a quick text and sent it to the Russian tracker.

"If you see Ariadne, tell her I love her."

* * *

The Russian and the American tracker sat across from one another at a Mombasa bar and gambling parlor that Eames had once recommended to them.

"You know this game?"

"No."

The American laid down a few cards, "We'll need a third to play cutthroat even."

"You and your fucking card games."

"My fucking card game happens to be my fucking family tradition."

"You're a cheat!" The Russian threw his drink on the ground and slurred his words considerably.

"I'll slit your throat!" Bradshaw jumped forward, tackling his fellow tracker and both men fell to the ground, shattering a table.

The club's bouncers jumped in and dragged the men toward the door, but they persisted in attacking one another the entire way. As the two bouncers attempted to throw the men throw the door, they found themselves so caught up, that they tumbled out the door with them.

Alexi aimed for Bradshaw and ended up hitting the club employee, Bradshaw managed to do the same for the other one.

Now, the employees were more personally engaged in the fight, and decided to teach the two rowdy patrons a lesson they wouldn't forget.

They dragged the men back into an alley, away from the public view and scrutiny.

It was exactly what the trackers wanted.

The Russian tracker held them both at gunpoint after a brief struggle, "Strip."

"What?"

"Look, we're not getting our jollies off this or anything, but we need your clothes." Bradshaw laughed.

"For what?"

"Who is holding the gun here? My friend Alexi, or you?"

The bouncers reluctantly stripped down to their underwear and threw over the garments.

"You know, we've been here a month now watching you two. You're our same size; you look close to how we do. I'd have to say, we did some damn good scouting, didn't we Alexi?"

"My mother would be so proud of me." Grinned the Russian.

"What are you going to do?"

"With the clothes? That's none of your business. I am however, about to kill some of Cobol's errand boys."

The gun shot twice, the silencer didn't even disturb the birds on the power lines above.


	8. Sacrifices for Freedom

Chapter 8: Sacrifices for Freedom

A/N: This one gets rough, please be warned, there will be blood.

Reviews are appreciated and loved!

* * *

She was wondering how long she would have to stay in this prison. It had been nearly a month and a week or two by her count. If she was marking the wall accurately, she was well into her sixth month of pregnancy.

Her mind was plagued with worry. None of the guards would talk to her when she asked if the prison had medical services. They shrugged and turned away from her, uncaring of the tiny woman in the cell. She was to be forgotten by them, if they got involved, they might care.

Every night, she lay back on her cot, her hair falling over the edges of the bed, and with her fingers, she drew imaginary patterns on her belly. She hummed the songs she remembered from her childhood until her eyes grew too heavy to keep them open.

The boredom was getting to her. She and Yusuf had discussed everything, from politics to music, and they now passed their days almost by sleeping through them entirely.

Phillipa and James already seemed to be shutting down. The poor children spent their time asleep on their cots while Yusuf watched over them. Sometimes, the chemist would sit on the edge of their beds and brush back their hair, worried that they might have stopped breathing. Their minds were hiding them from their current circumstances and something in both him and Ariadne was comforted by that.

It was late one night, when neither of the adults could sleep, that they sat up talking. Ariadne revealed to Yusuf that she was expecting, and cried over her fears that she could be in the jail long enough to give birth there. Without help, without Arthur. Yusuf took her hand as best he could from his cell and tried to comfort her.

* * *

With their new clothes and keys, the two trackers were working their way into the system. It was the Russian tracker who finally befriended one of the guards enough to find out exactly where Ariadne was being held.

The guard, seduced by alcohol and the smoke-filled atmosphere of the bar, bragged that they had the chemist and the children too. Both of them had a good laugh over it, but only the Russian knew what he was laughing about.

A week later, he managed to talk his way into an interview with the warden. Taking a page from the architect, he billed himself as a former Soviet spy with an interest in suppressing political upstarts, "My country has grown too soft," He churned out his accent hard, "I want to show the people what happens when they decide to dissent."

A shake of the hand, a pat on the back, a bribe under the table, and he was in.

The American joked to him, when he returned that night, that he should considering working Guantanamo, he played it so well.

New hires got the night shift, and he took it eagerly.

* * *

Ariadne awoke to someone speaking French.

"I'm not here to hurt you, I am not Cobol." The words came again and again. She thought she must be dreaming.

When she finally did open her eyes, she was struck with panic. It was the strange Russian man from the South African café.

He put up his hands, "I am not a hitman for Cobol."

"Who are you then?"

"I was hired by Eames to find you and the others."

"You were?"

"If I was a hitman for Cobol, why would I be here?"

She still felt uneasy when she looked to him though, she didn't feel as though she could trust anyone anymore.

Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved his cell phone and brought up a text message. Ariadne leaned forward, "If you see Ariadne, tell her I love her." The return number was Eames', she recognized it.

"Alright, how do I get out of here?"

"The senior guard has the key to the cells. There are five other guards here besides me at all times. We need a distraction to bring the senior guard here so I can take the keys and get all of you out."

"What did you have in mind?"

"You're going to fake a miscarriage."

"What?"

"Your only value to these people is as bait for Arthur. There's no medical facility on site, so if you were to suddenly have a miscarriage that threatened your life, they'd have to move you."

Ariadne understood what he was saying, "How though?"

The Russian glanced around and then pulled a knife from his pocket, "Cut yourself. It'll look like you're bleeding and they won't have time to check."

"When?" She could feel herself begin to awake to the plan like she was mapping out a dream.

"Tomorrow night. Two am. Be ready to go."

Alexi turned and went about marching up and down the hallway; he'd already stayed too long.

* * *

The American tracker had been out, preparing. As an aficionado of the black market for arms and weaponry, he was in heaven.

Alexi looked across the room at the man who was eagerly cleaning the rifles, "I don't think I've seen guns that big in a long time."

"I shouldn't think so; these were hard to get, even in Mombasa."

"You have a very unnatural obsession with those."

"Eh," The American couldn't hardly respond, clenching a bullet in his teeth as he wiped down the barrel. He spit it onto the table, "Look what someone just left in this one. That's just careless."

"And yet you had it in your mouth." The Russian flung himself down on the hotel bed and flipped on the tv.

Bradshaw simply grinned at him.

The Russian tracker wasn't finding much on the television, "So, how did you meet Cobb?"

"Heh. I actually met Arthur first. I used to be in extraction back in the day, and he helped me on a few jobs. I kinda pissed off a business firm and both of them saved my ass from getting killed. What about you?"

"I met Eames a long time ago, before I even knew you. My parents, they moved from Russia to England when I was little. He was my schoolmate."

"Schoolmate?" The American smirked, "You're willing to be an on-call tracker for a schoolmate?"

"Yes." Alexi continued to flip through the channels.

He was aware when the American tracker stopped assembling the rifle and looked at him, "Did he beat up some bullies for you?"

"No."

"Then, what did he do that you feel the need to be in debt to him?"

"Nothing, it is just, simply," He thought a moment, "In my nature."

The American smirked, "Really?"

"Yes, now, I don't want to talk about it anymore."

Continuing to fix the gun, Bradshaw mumbled under his breath, "Didn't know there was a Sacred Band of Moscow."

"I heard that."

"Deny it?"

"How long have you known me?"

"A long time."

"And you still need to ask these questions?"

"I guess not."

There was silence between the two men until the American stood up and handed over another rifle to his friend, "This one is for you actually, and you have your choice of buck knives on the table."

"Thanks."

"Think we can actually pull this off?"

"I know we can. I am more worried about her. She has to cut herself and she's in a delicate condition. If we don't time this right-"

"We're in trouble."

"Yeah."

"Well," Bradshaw threw down the gun on the table and fell back onto his own bed, "Hope the girl's got a strong stomach."

* * *

The clock ticked incessantly. Tick, tick, tick. She couldn't see it, but she could hear it.

Boots in the hall.

She flipped out the knife that she had been given. "_Methodically, do it methodically."_ She thought. The blade glinted in the light; it shot a little beam back at her.

Yusuf called back to her, "1:52am."

Ariadne took a deep breath.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah." But her voice was shaky, and Yusuf worried in his cell. Phillipa and James were up and waiting for whatever was going to happen next. He hadn't told them, worried that they might reveal something or have more cause to be afraid.

She slipped out of her jeans and set them on the cot. In her mind, she tried to remember from biology class where the femoral artery was, she didn't want to nick it.

Picking up her pillow, she gripped it between her teeth. Her hands were trembling fiercely as she looked down at the sharpened edge. The Russian had improved the blade right before he gave it to her, trying to make it as easy as possible.

It tumbled from her grip down to the bedsheet.

"Damnit," She mumbled, picking it back up.

A thin sweat broke out on her forehead. She panted.

Her skin suddenly looked so frail, milky. She could see the light veins underneath when she really focused on it.

"1:55."

Another deep breath, her eyes closed, her fingers tightened around the handle of the blade.

The blade raised and she felt the metal touch the skin of her inner thigh.

She could hear Phillipa whispering to James, and she listened because she needed to distract herself.

The baby suddenly kicked.

Startled, she brought the knife down. The hot metal bit into her skin like nothing she'd ever felt before. It reminded her of when she'd been stabbed by Mal in the first dream.

Her cry of pain was real.

She'd gone deeper than she meant to.

When she'd pulled her hand up, it was covered in thick, red blood.

"Ari? Are you okay? Did you do it?"

"Yes." She whispered back through gritted teeth.

"1:57."

She struggled to her feet; the blood began to drip down her legs. This was the goal though, she reminded herself, to bleed convincingly.

Her jeans went on hard, the fluid causing them to drag against her leg and the pain seared up her thigh. The tears came easily.

The blue fabric was quickly becoming darker as the life blood seeped out of her wound. Ariadne had cut herself just close enough to make it look as though she was quickly losing her pregnancy.

"My God, I think you have cut yourself too deeply." The Russian was at the bars of her cell, whispering to her in French. He looked scared for her.

"Get me out of here, please!"

"Start screaming."

She did as she was told.

* * *

The head guard was sitting at the front desk, a perk of his position.

He stared at a small television in front of him, it was blaring the nightly news. Across from him, seated in the waiting room, was another man he didn't recognize. The man was flipping through a Russian newspaper; he was here to pick up his brother, their new Russian guard, when he got off his shift in half an hour.

It looked like they'd have to have a talk with him about family members coming to the jail during off hours, but this was only a first offense.

There was the sound of footsteps in the hallway, running at a sprint. Getting up, the guard waited his hand on his gun.

When the Russian guard burst through, he understandably relaxed, "What's wrong?"

"The female, she's bleeding!"

"Bleeding?"

"I think she is having a miscarriage! She's lost a lot of blood."

Immediately, the head guard, scared for losing his most lucrative charge, grabbed his keys from the locked cabinet and ran after the Russian guard.

The Russian guard's brother casually set aside the newspaper and stood up. He felt the two rifles concealed under his jacket, the hunting buck knives in his boots and up his sleeves.

Once he was convinced that there was no one around, he grabbed the ID key that his Russian ally just had happened to drop, and entered the secured area.

* * *

Political prisoners were in a secluded cell block, away from the general population that lived in more squalid conditions.

The head guard and Alexi stopped just outside Ariadne's cell. He surveyed her situation and stuttered a bit.

The commotion had brought the other guards running and they all stood there while she bled.

"If we leave her here, we could lose both of them. Then what's the good of her?"

"You're right, but we don't have permission to move her."

"What is the old saying? It is better to beg forgiveness? Cobol will kill us all if we lose his best hostage."

The head guard nodded, and he, along with two of the other senior guards, used their keys to unlock the cell.

"Who's going to take her?"

Pointing to himself, the chief guard spoke up, "I will, myself, Alexi, and Davidson."

The men all nodded and they began to pick up her cot in place of a rolling cart.

As they walked her down the hallway, the three other guards turned to go back to their posts. Once back in the main hallway, the three men were running as best they could without dropping Ariadne, but they halted when they came around the corner.

"Alexi, what is your brother doing here?"

"I don't know, he must have heard the noise and decided to see what was going on."

Davidson allowed the two men to take the weight of her and he approached the man standing in the hallway, "Sir, you are not allowed to be back here."

Bradshaw stood back, faking an accent, "Oh, I am so sorry, my English, it is not so good."

Alexi rolled his eyes and moved to hold the cart with one hand and secure Ari with the other.

Davidson got too close. The buck knife came out fast and sunk itself into the guard's throat.

The head guard dropped his side of the cot and went to retrieve his gun, yelling for the other guards to back him up.

Luckily for Ariadne, the Russian tracker had a good enough hold on her to keep her from hitting the ground.

Running toward the guard, Bradshaw kicked him back into the wall before he could get off his first shot. The second knife went straight into the ribcage of the head guard, it crunched sickeningly and Ariadne felt the nausea rise in her stomach. She wasn't sure if it was from loss of blood or the amount of blood she was seeing that was not her own.

Ripping the keys from the head guard, the Russian handed Ariadne over to the American, "Take her somewhere safe, she needs to have that wound tended to. I'll get the others."

"Right." Bradshaw got Ariadne to her feet and slung her arm over his shoulders, taking her up entirely into his arms, "C'mon, let's get you outta here."

He took off at his best speed back toward the waiting room, and she rested her head on his shoulder.

* * *

Alexi headed back after the other three guards. They had heard the commotion and were heading back towards him already.

He was a bit sad about the first one, a younger man, "Alexi, what's –"

The Russian's gun went off and the guard barely had time to speak, "-happened?" before he fell.

"Sorry kid."

The second guard had hung back enough to witness the murder. He pulled out his firearm and began to take shots at the Russian. With the gun that Bradshaw had given him, Alexi ducked back behind the corner and waited. The man could only have so many shots.

He heard the clip hit the ground after the last bullet and he realized his opportunity. Lining up his sights quickly, he flipped around and fired.

Right between the eyes.

Alexi cautiously ran up to him and took his key from the body and moved on, rifle raised.

The third guard was no fool, he'd seen the Russian take the key and he knew what he wanted. In a completely cowardly fashion though, he ran, taking only a few arbitrary shots backwards down the hall.

Sighing, the tracker raised the rifle again, and shot him in the back. The man dropped and slid along the floor.

With the final guard dead, he'd bought himself some time before the dead man's switch was tripped to Cobol headquarters.

Jogging down the hall, he practically scolded the deceased man's body, "You made me shoot you in the back. I hate shooting people in the back."

All three keys in hand, he sprinted to the other end of the hall and went to work on the cell containing Yusuf and the children. The chemist had them lying on their beds, covering their ears while the firefight went on.

Standing across from each other at the bars, the Russian tried each key to each locked before finding the right combination after a stressful minute, "It's like a video game, no? Red key, blue key." He managed a laugh.

"That's all very well and good, but get us the hell out of here!"

The door opened and with Alexi leading the way, they ran from the facility. In the final hallway, something caught his eye and he stopped for a moment, leaving a confused Yusuf to stammer and sputter angrily that they weren't moving.

"Where's the head guard?"

"The head guard, his body should be here!"

"Was he dead?"

Alexi's eyes shifted back and forth, "I don't know."

He kicked open the door to the waiting room and looked around. Nothing.

"No time to worry about that now, I have a temporary safe house for you." The Russian and his followers took off into the night, each adult carrying one child that was too frightened to walk.

* * *

Once outside the prison, the American started back toward the safe house. On her own, Ariadne would have been easy to carry, but pregnant, she was more weight than he was used to.

Suddenly, he lurched forward and she wrapped her arms around his neck to keep from being dropped. He threw himself against a wall to keep upright.

He continued to hobble forward, dragging his feet and walking further into the dark alley.

This time, she heard the shot.

Bradshaw fell to his knees. He pulled her to the side and set her down in a darkened doorway, "Get back! Stay out of sight!"

Ariadne scrambled back against the door, tucking her feet in.

He rolled over onto his back and pulled out his gun, firing back.

The head guard, bleeding heavily, stumbled closer in the alley, holding his wounded side as the blood seeped out around his fingers, "I'll kill you," he coughed, "I'll kill you, you son of a bitch."

Bradshaw laughed. The two wounds in his back were losing blood at an incredibly fast rate. He got to his feet and shot again. This time, he scored a hit to the chest.

Both men were unsteady on their feet, but it was the head guard who dropped his gun first. Seizing his chance, the American ran at him, knocking him into a side alley where garbage was commonly disposed of. The head guard was dead before he even hit the ground.

Bradshaw managed to pull himself up into a sitting position, but as he tried to stand, he found that he didn't have the energy. Letting his head roll to one side, he sighed, breathing out.

_If he could just rest awhile, he'd be fine… _His final thought was at least a comforting one to him.

* * *

In all the adrenaline rush of the escape, Ariadne hadn't paid much attention to her body.

Now, as she laid curled up in the corner of the doorway, she suddenly felt the weight of the day upon her sore and battered body. Touching her thigh, she felt the warm blood still flowing.

Her eyes were so incredibly heavy, she was so weak. Only once before had she lost consciousness and she could feel it coming in again.

The last thing she recalled was sliding backwards onto the floor as the door to the shop she sat in front of was opened. Someone pulled her inside and closed the door quietly behind her.

Moments later, the Russian and Yusuf ran by with the kids, unaware of the two bodies and the unconscious architect just out of view.


	9. Separations

Chapter 9: Separations

A/N: Please read and review. A little respite for everyone before the hitmen come back.

* * *

"In other news this morning, two men were found dead today near the capital prison, as well as the other guards who were on duty last night. In an apparent breakout, four political prisoners are now missing."

Alexi leaned forward on his chair, turning up the television volume.

"Police have found this man, whom they believe to be a foreign spy, also deceased. His name is unknown as of right now."

The rules were different here; the showing of the face of dead man was not prohibited.

The Russian felt the breath catch in his throat as the bloodied face of Bradshaw appeared on the screen.

James was startled as a string of Russian curses flew from the mouth of the tracker and he flung one of his knives hard into the wall. It hit the plaster wall with a thwack, and sunk to the hilt.

He paced the room, running his hands through his hair and mumbling in his native language. Yusuf didn't quite know what to do; the man was being irrational and possibly dangerous.

"Mr. Alexi?"

"What?"

Phillipa loosed herself from Yusuf's grasp and walked over toward the agitated man.

"What's wrong?"

Alexi sat down on the edge of the bed, red-faced and considered the little girl. She climbed up on the bed next to him.

"The man that died last night, he was my best friend. We've been friends for twenty years."

With tiny hands, she wiped away the tears that came down his cheeks, "My mommy is dead too."

"Yes, I heard." He held her hand in his and she put her free palm to his cheek.

"I miss mommy all the time."

Alexi nodded.

"But my daddy says that sometimes, bad things can happen to good people, and that, that they don't deserve it."

"No, they don't."

Phillipa shook her head to agree with him. Without warning, she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. He hugged her back, holding her tiny little body.

Taking in a strangled breath, the Russian tracker allowed himself to mourn his dead friend.

* * *

The children had been allowed to nap for a few hours.

Yusuf and Alexi sat across from each other at the small table.

"What about Ariadne?"

"I don't know. If Bradshaw is dead, then she wouldn't know where to go."

"What if she's dead?"

"No, they would have mentioned it on the news."

The chemist sighed and looked around, "Can we go out and look for her?"

"I don't think so. They have all of our photos by now; we'll be recognized in an instant, especially for that reward money."

"Damn."

"I think we should take the tunnels and get the hell out of here. It is better if we get at least some of you out right now and then I can come back later."

"She's bleeding and pregnant, Alexi, we can't just leave her here!"

The look on the face of the man across from him was resigned, "Yusuf, if she was cut deeply enough, then she has already died. I hate to be cold on this, but right now, she is either already dead, or she is hiding somewhere."

It wasn't as though Yusuf didn't believe him; he knew the man spoke the hellish truth, "I see your point."

"You are in pretty bad shape yourself, my friend. Can you even see out of your left eye?"

"Not anymore."

"Well, as the Americans say, let's get the hell out of dodge. I have a friendly pilot who will take us to England. I can arrange to have Cobb meet us there at the British safe house."

"Right."

They woke the sleeping children and gathered them in their arms. Kicking open the trap door the group moved into the city maintenance tunnels. Alexi hid their entrance once again and they ran in the direction of the small airport.

* * *

If someone had told Yusuf two days ago that he would be in a chartered car, driving through London, he wouldn't have believed them.

Alexi ended his cell phone conversation, "They're waiting on us right now." His hands felt for the firearm he kept at his side. All he had to do was walk them inside and then disappear again, back to tracking the final missing piece of the puzzle.

"Before we go in, I need to ask you something."

"What?"

"Don't tell Arthur about Ariadne's condition."

"He doesn't know?"

"No, and Eames asked me to keep it that way. He's worried that if Arthur knows, he will be distracted and unable to focus on finding her."

"This is wrong."

"Yes, I am of the same mindset, but it isn't in my hands. I have to respect Eames' wishes, but you are free to fight with him. Still-" Alexi paused for a moment, "I think that she should be the one to tell him."

The car stopped and the Russian got out first, looking around before motioning the others to follow him.

Yusuf whispered to him as he rushed past him into the building, "Two more months and it won't be an issue, find her!"

The Russian rolled his eyes a bit and followed the small group inside. The driver of car remained behind, waiting and watching for anyone who might be hiding out.

The building looked heavily damaged from the outside, but it was fortified. Steel enforced walls were one of Cobb's better investments. They walked down into the basement, a modern version of the 1950's paranoia bomb shelter.

Alexi closed the door behind them and locked it; he then walked to the door at the bottom of the stairs and opened the final barrier.

Behind it, Cobb, Arthur, and Eames were all standing, waiting on the delivery. The Russian walked in first, and grinned at his friends, "I have some people who want very much to see you."

Phillipa and James sprinted from the steps toward their father. Cobb fell to his knees, embracing them. Both of his children jumped onto him wrapped their arms around his neck and covered him in kisses.

Eames had a self-satisfied smile on his face while Arthur gave a relieved sigh to see the children returned safely.

"What happened?" The point man immediately began the questions.

"We infiltrated the prison and broke out Ariadne first, Bradshaw was supposed to take her back to the safe house. When I came out with Yusuf and the children, we didn't see him and we just ran straight back. From what I can tell, Bradshaw was killed trying to save her, but we couldn't find her. The news the next morning didn't mention finding her either."

"So you don't know where she is?"

"I believe she is still in Mombasa, and I'm going to go back and find her."

"Was she okay? Did you give her my message?"

"Yes," He lied about her condition, but confirmed that he gave her the text message.

Cobb looked up from where he was still holding his children, "Can you get her back?"

"I will do everything I can. She's running away from me, remember, she thinks that she will lead the hitmen to you and get you all killed."

"Did you explain to her that this isn't the first time Cobol's sent his boys after us?" Eames sighed.

"We had little time for talking."

Arthur had a look of frustration on his face that told the tracker that he was not pleased with all his efforts. Maybe Arthur was upset that his own tracker had been killed and was taking out his anger on Alexi.

Alexi was not looking into getting into a fight with the point man. He'd lost a damn good friend.

"I'm heading back tonight."

"Alright." Arthur looked down suddenly as James and Phillipa grabbed onto his pant legs.

"Uncle Arthur!"

Cobb smiled, "They wanted to hug you too."

It wasn't long before the point man came dangerously close to scuffing his pants when he dropped down to hug the two small children.

He ruffled James' hair and hugged Phillipa, "We were so worried about you."

"We were with Yusuf and Ariadne."

"Yeah."

"He took care of us."

"Ariadne sang to us too."

Arthur had a soft smile on her face, "That's my Ari."

"Do you love Ari, Uncle Arthur?"

"Yes, very much."

"She said she loves you."

"Oh she did?"

Both of the children nodded. Yusuf leaned over to Cobb, "They're doing a lot better, the kidnapper who picked them up was very mean to them."

Cobb sighed and stared at his poor children, and wondered that they could even laugh and joke with their 'uncle' after all they'd been through in their short lives.

For the first time, Dom really got to look at the chemist. Yusuf had been worked over considerably by Cobol's men. He was bruised, and there were scars on his arms.

One of his eyes was swollen shut and judging by how it appeared, it seemed as though Yusuf would lose the use of one of his eyes.

"I'm sorry about all this."

The chemist sighed, "Can't fix it, I suppose it doesn't matter. At least you got us out of there."

On the other side of the room, Eames clapped his Russian friend on the back, "I'm sorry about Bradshaw, I know he was a good friend."

Alexi nodded absentmindedly, "Yes, yes he was."

The two men regarded each other for a moment before the Russian broke first and went back toward the door.

"I'm heading back to Mombasa."

Arthur nodded; he was standing as he held James while Cobb held Phillipa.

"Yusuf, I want you to stay here with James and Phillipa. I'm keeping you all here in the safe house while we find Ariadne."

"You're not going to stay with us?" Phillipa grabbed onto the lapels on her father's jacket.

"I can't right now, we have to find Ariadne and bring her back too."

"Where is she?"

The Russian stepped forward, "It's a secret, I have to go and find her."

The little girl was satisfied with this answer.

* * *

"Look, she's waking up."

Ariadne felt her head throbbing, she allowed her eyes to crack open just barely and stare before the light forced her to shut them again.

Someone drew a curtain and the light died down. She opened her eyes again, and the vision was blurry.

"How do you feel?"

"Like someone hit me in the head."

"I don't think you had any head injuries."

Her vision came back into focus and she stared up at a young woman sitting next to her, with an older woman near her feet.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Amira, this is my mother, Hisani."

"Where am I?"

"You are in Mombasa. In my shop."

"Shop?"

"I am a seamstress."

Ariadne suddenly tried to sit straight up, grabbing her belly with both hands, "My baby!"

Amira grabbed both her hands and held her, "The baby is fine. We have been watching."

"What about my cut?" Ariadne threw back the sheet covering her to reveal a wound that would certainly become a scar later.

"How did you do that?"

"I did it myself."

"Did you want to die?" Scolded the older woman, Hisani.

"No, it was an accident, it was supposed to be a little cut so that – "

"What?"

"Nothing."

The two women smiled at one another, "You have escaped from the prison?"

Ariadne looked at them fearfully, they could turn her in.

"We assumed that you were a prisoner."

"Oh, and you're not going to send me back?"

Amira sighed, "We hate Cobol. The people in that prison are the ones who have stood up to them. They take all our resources and leave us with nothing. We know for a fact that they fund the armies in other countries that have killed so many of our sisters and brothers."

The young woman sighed and tucked in an errant hair to her headscarf, "If we had the money, it'd be easy to leave."

Ariadne sighed, she had nothing to say to them except offer her agreement, but she did not know their pain firsthand.

They shared a silence before Amira indicated the wound on Ariadne's inner thigh, "We called a local doctor. He stitched up the wound."

"Using my thread, no less." Smiled Hisani.

"We were beginning to worry that you would not wake up; you might have lost too much blood."

"How long have I been out?"

"A week and a day. I heard the gunfight and when I saw you were collapsed outside my door, I pulled you inside."

"Thank you." A week and a day. It boggled Ariadne's mind. Obviously, her body had demanded of her the time to heal, but this was incredible.

"We've been giving you goat's milk to keep up your strength."

"Thank you." She couldn't bring any other words to her lips. She owed them everything.

"I have to get going, if Cobol finds me again – "

"They won't find you here, you need to rest." The elder woman sat down on the edge of the bed, pushing Ariadne back down onto the mattress.

Once the architect's head fell to the pillow, she fell back asleep. The sudden exertion had drained her energy. Amira brushed her hair from her face and pulled the covers back over her, "Poor child."

"She is lucky to be alive."

* * *

Another week of living with the two seamstresses and they deemed her healthy enough to leave, although they tried to stop her.

Ariadne was nothing if not intelligent. She had concealed her fake passports and money in her boots. Amira and Hisani wrapped her in a full veil and escorted her through the crowded Mombasa streets. Despite the heat, she was glad that she wasn't running through rat-infested tunnels or dodging the Cobol hitmen just to escape.

She threw up on the small plane ride back to Johannesburg; it was hard on her stomach.

There was a connecting flight she managed to get on stand-by.

The last person who could possibly help her, although she couldn't risk putting him in danger too. She'd have to lay low for awhile, make sure she wasn't being followed.

She just hoped to god that Saito was in Osaka.


	10. Osaka

Chapter 10: Osaka

A/N: There's a scene for Decki in here, I hope they like it!

Please read and review!

* * *

If he could still dream, he knew he'd dream of her.

It was one of the most frustrating aftershocks of extraction work; the loss of the ability of the mind's subconscious to show you what you wanted. Or even just to grind down the events of the day.

After Eames and Cobb went to sleep at night, he could put himself under the PASIV device and see her again.

She was like Mal here though, only a shade that he brought up, a manifestation of his fears about what she must be going through.

His shade was different than Cobb's, not angry nor murderous; but sad and frightened. She was nothing like he knew her in real life.

Arthur was always walking through the most horrid streets in Mombasa. Ariadne was there, curled up in the corner.

His subconscious watched him intently as he leaned down and knelt in front of her. She would always refuse to look at him at first, not believing he was there.

"Ari? Please, look at me." He begged.

She would stare at the wall, arms wrapped around her knees in the fetal position, "They're going to kill me. They're going to kill me."

"No they aren't, I won't let them."

"How can you say that? You aren't real, you aren't here! You can't stop them!"

"I'm right here!" He grabbed her shoulders and tried to turn her so she would look at him.

"No, Arthur, you left me, you abandoned me."

"I would never abandon you, Ari, I love you."

"You love me, but you weren't there! Where were you when that man grabbed me?"

"I was looking for you, I tried."

This Ariadne began crying when she finally met his eyes, "Why am I always second, Arthur? You'd rather work with Cobb in California than work from Paris and be with me."

"That's not true, I've been trying to save money, and get a house together. I wanted you to move in with me once you graduated."

She just kept crying and turned from him again, "Do you really love me?"

"Yes."

"I'm afraid, Arthur. I don't know if I'm going to make it."

He knew he was fighting with himself, "I won't let anything happen to you."

The timer went off.

Arthur stirred in the recliner, and stared up at the ceiling. Reaching up, he felt two trails of water running down his face where the tears had fallen. Taking a deep breath, he continued to lie there, working out what had happened.

There was a sudden match light near him and he sat up. The light moved upwards and illuminated Eames' face in the night.

The Brit lit a cigarette and took a long drag on it, "What's wrong?"

Arthur pulled out the line from his wrist, "Nothing."

Eames took the seat across from him, "Look darling, I'm not going to mock you. Like you said, I don't exactly have a dog in this fight."

The point man man's eyebrows furled.

"Okay, bad choice of words," The smoke billowed up from where he exhaled, "What's going on?"

Retrieving his handkerchief, the point man dried the wetness on his cheeks, "I wanted to see her."

"Oh, I see. And?"

"It's not her, she's like Mal was, just a shade."

"What's she like, in the dream that is?"

"She scared, weak, everything I know she's not."

"So, you're projecting your fears onto her?"

"Yeah."

When he looked at his friend, the Brit motioned for him to continue.

"She keeps asking why I abandoned her, why I didn't save her." He took a deep breath, "If I really love her."

"Well, you're obviously blaming yourself, but it wasn't your fault, mate. This is what, the sixth time Cobol has sent his errand boys? We didn't know it was coming."

"I should have warned her."

"And I should quit smoking." The forger laughed, "But we forget things sometimes."

"Eames, do you think," Arthur leaned forward, and put his elbows on his knees, "That because she asks me, if I love her – "

"You're worried that you don't?"

Arthur nodded a bit and hung his head, "Why would she ask that if I didn't?"

"I think that you're worried that she thinks you don't love her, not that you don't."

It didn't seem to be enough of an explanation for the Point man.

"I know you Arthur, you're an uptight prick half the time, I can't bloody stand you."

"Thanks Eames."

"You're different with her, could probably be a bit more open and the like, but I think she knows you love her." The Brit sat back, "You've had your knickers in a twist since she's been on the run. Now, I'm used to you burying your head in your work, but the way you've done it lately…"

"That's what I do."

"This is different though, darling, it's like, you're afraid to feel, so you're trying not to think about it by working. Frankly, I'm worried that you'll snap moreso than usual."

Arthur thought about it a moment.

"I'm right about this." Eames stood up and threw down the cigarette, scuffing it out with his boot, "And we will get her back."

He walked away, the smell of smoke lingering behind him. The point man fell back into the chair, but he wouldn't be going back in tonight.

Rolling back his sleeve, he saw the edge of her scarf where he'd tied it around his wrist.

There was no way in hell he would let Cobol take her.

* * *

Osaka was a beautiful city of contradictions. A thriving city of skylines brilliantly lit up against the night sky. Yet the inhabitants took life a little slower off the clock. Traditional billboards lined up against hand painted advertisements.

If Ariadne had fit in better, she would have found it an entirely ideal place to hide out. So long as she stayed in the tourist areas, she found it easy to get around.

Saito was based out of this city, and through some quick research that Arthur had taught her, she got her hands on his travel schedule. Businessmen conferences, a trade summit of some sort in Switzerland, meetings.

His cell phone was already tapped, that she knew, and his email would be as well. She would need to wait until he was in the country, call his company from a payphone and arrange a meeting the same day. Hopefully, he would be able to see her fast enough to take her into some sort of protective custody. Saito may have been a ruthless businessman at times, but he had a special affection for the team that had saved his life in dreamscape.

Flipping through the schedule, it would be at least a month before he was back in Osaka, or even Japan itself.

She would choose her hangouts more carefully this time.

Osaka wasn't lacking in tea shops, ramen houses, and western style cafes and bistros. Ariadne found that a crowded pachinko parlor was easy to lose anyone who might look a little too interested in her. She changed up her schedule regularly, and even invested in a temporary hair dye for a week while she waited for her contact to return.

Time was especially harsh. In a city that pulsed with life, she felt as though she was held back.

The child still grew inside her. She was constantly feeling for movement. That one brush with death had worried her that she may have hurt the baby in some way. Any attempt to visit a doctor though could result in her being ambushed while her feet were up in stirrups, a very unappealing option.

As the seventh month drew to a close, she began to worry. The child definitely favored Arthur's side in terms of size, her belly was quite large, and enough to attract the pitying stares of other women.

Every day she monitored Saito's schedule, until finally, one day, she got her chance.

She donned a covering hat and sunglasses and walked briskly down the street. The air was cool and nipped at her exposed skin.

Ducking into a side street convenience store, she pulled out a phone card and dialed in.

"Saito Corporation."

"I need to speak to Mr. Saito."

"I'm sorry; he does not take personal calls."

"I'm an old friend of his, please transfer me to his office, it's an emergency. Tell him it's Ariadne."

The receptionist sighed, "Okay, I will request his personal line."

The harsh blare of call-waiting music jarred her ear, the terrible instrumental recording of some Eurovision song from last season.

"Ariadne?"

"Saito?"

"Yes."

"I need your help. Cobol's sent assassins out for the team and if I go near them, they'll use me to track Arthur, Cobb, and Eames and kill them."

"Do you need my hitmen?"

"No, I just need – " Ariadne paused, "You have hitmen?"

"I'm a very powerful man, power takes many forms."

"I don't need hitmen, I just need to get somewhere safe so that I can contact the others without Cobol being able to track them. Tell them what's going on so that they stop looking for me."

"I can do that, where are you?"

"Can you meet me Omi Sushi and Ocha Tea House in the hour?"

"Yes, I can, I'll bring guards."

"Thank you."

"Anything you need."

The phone went dead.

Ariadne set the phone back in its holder and looked around. The clerk didn't even seem to be interested in what she was doing.

Adjusting her sunglasses, she exited the door and headed straight for the tea house. In her paranoid state, it seemed as though everyone was looking at her, like she was the invader in someone else's dream.

Omi Sushi and Ocha Tea House was a blue and white frosted glass affair. It was a tribute to modern architectures in curved and angular designs. She took a seat at the modified table and made small talk with the waitress.

It was painfully mundane; she was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

The waitresses milled around the tables, taking and filling orders. The other patrons talked in hushed tones and flipped the grilling meat on their tabletop hibachi. The woman who was in charge of tea service had a shift change and she was replaced by a younger woman with a fresh face and newly starched apron.

Ten minutes went by, and she was nearly done with her Sencha tea.

"Excuse me, do you speak English?"

The woman in front of her was tall, a bit thin, and nervous looking.

"Yes."

"Do you mind if I sit with you? I haven't spoke English is two weeks and I really want to."

Ariadne thought she looked like a culture shocked foreign exchange student.

"Sure."

The woman pulled up a chair and took the seat across from her. She didn't seem to know what to do with her hands and arms, fidgeting considerably.

"'What do you want to talk about?"

"The basics? What's your name, where are you from?" She had a sheepish grin, "Sorry I can't offer something better for conversation."

Ariadne thought quickly, "I'm Victoria, from Florida."

"Oh, I'm Isabella, from Toronto."

* * *

Cobb's cell phone lit up in his pocket, a text message.

"What's that?"

"It's from Saito, it says that Ariadne just called him to come and pick her up in Osaka."

"Osaka?" Arthur breathed a sigh of relief that she was out of Mombasa.

"Eames, call the trackers, set them on her in case something goes wrong. Arthur, see if you can follow Saito to pinpoint her location.

"On it." Both men seemed to mutter as they returned to their work.

* * *

Only five minutes after Isabella had sat down, the two women were chatting about everything from the weather to politics.

As she came down from laughing, Isabella tossed her black hair back over her shoulder and leaned her elbows on the table, "This has been wonderful, Ariadne."

The architect stopped, "My name is Victoria."

There was a large grin on those pouty lips, "C'mon, let's stop kidding ourselves about who we are."

"Who are you?"

"Like I said, I'm Isabella, and I'm from Toronto. I'm a Scorpio, and my hobbies include biking and sadistic murder."

"You're from Cobol, aren't you?"

"Survey says yes." She leaned in, propping up her head on her hands.

Ariadne moved to get up, but Isabella grabbed her arm and pulled her back down into her chair, "C'mon, we were having such a nice conversation."


	11. Saito and a Tracker

Chapter 11: Saito and a Tracker

A/N: Please review! Reviews keep this story going and that's the truth!

* * *

Marcus threw his cigarette down on the ground. He read over Isabella's text. The first hitman had worked in tandem with the third before. They made a decent team.

Jimmying the lock on the maintenance room tunnels, he wandered into the restricted areas of the Saito corporation main building. His feeling that the little architect would run to the businessman had panned out.

Saito was up on the fifteenth floor.

The first hitman marched up the stairs until he found the panel that he wanted. The little metal sheet came away from the wall easily. It clattered on the ground.

Pulling a pair of clippers from his coat pocket, he waited. The elevator engaged, and lights went on and cables buzzed from the area he could see.

5,4,3,2,1…

He snapped the nearest cord, and there was the screech of metal as the car ground to a halt.

Marcus had really been hoping to simply drop the elevator, and Saito, to a grisly demise on concrete.

Dmitri was the one who was really good at mechanical kills, he was better with a gun, "Shit." He'd only managed to stall the car for time, and it was only a matter of time before he was discovered where he was hiding.

Bolting back down the steps, he burst from the maintenance door and out into the back alley. As he ducked into the shadows, he pulled his phone out and sent a message to Isabella, "Hurry up, plan didn't go through, Saito is still on his way."

* * *

The elevator jolted, sending the businessman to the floor. Saito stood back up, rubbing his head where he'd hit it against the wall.

Nothing ever failed like this in his building; he made damn sure of that.

Just as he was about to call for staff, he stopped. This had Cobol written all over it. He redialed quickly, "Mr. Takayama, I need you to get over to Omi Sushi immediately. You're looking for a young woman named Ariadne, dark hair, Caucasian. Bring your gun, kill anyone who gets in your way, and bring her back here."

He flipped the cell phone closed and then thinking better of that, reopened it and dialed maintenance, sighing all the while.

* * *

Ariadne sat riveted to her chair. The hitwoman across from her fumbled with her chopsticks before finally picking up a piece of the tamago wrapped rice.

"What do you want?"

"Mind your own business, please. I'm a little busy here." Isabella dropped the tamago, "Damnit."

"Are you going to kill me?"

"I can, if you'd like."

"Why are you following me? All of you keep following me and tormenting me, but none of you seem to be trying to kill me."

"Oh that," Isabella grinned, "Well, first we were trying to get you to run to your boy-toy, but you didn't take the bait. Now, it's more of a keeping tabs on you thing."

"Tabs? I never did anything to Cobol."

"Look at it from the, 'you know too much,' angle."

Ariadne nodded, "So, you are going to kill me."

"If I'm lucky, I'll be the one to do it, and believe me, you'll want it to be me."

"Why? You provide a better way to die?"

Isabella actually laughed, "Less painless? I can make it quick."

Ariadne's breath caught in her throat as the psychotic woman beckoned the tea server and had her refill the architect's stoneware mug with green tea.

"Drink up, that stuff is good for the baby."

The architect's body language closed up, she crossed her legs, and wrapped her arms around her stomach.

"Why do you care? Aren't you going to kill the baby too?"

"No." The hitwoman rested her wrists on the table edge and splayed her hands, "Some part of me really wishes I'd been the one to handle you earlier. This whole pregnancy thing, doesn't sit well with me."

The architect was silent.

"See, I could have scared you into having a miscarriage, or beat you or whatever, like I usually do if we have pregnant targets."

Ariadne's eyes grew wide.

"The further along you are; I have these ethical debates in my head about what to do."

"You're not serious." The architect deadpanned.

"No, no, I am!" Insisted Isabella, tapped the tabletop with her fingers.

"You're a murderer, what does one more person matter to you?"

"Quirk I guess." Isabella finally just relented and picked up the tamago, nibbling on it, "I have figured out a way to assuage my guilt."

"You have?"

"Yeah. I would basically kill you, and take the baby." Isabella fairly relished in the amount of terror that sprang into her targets' eyes, "Cobol is always looking for new blood and what better way to ensure loyalty?"

"You're not taking my baby."

The hitwoman laughed, "Okay, honey, whatever you want to believe is fine with me."

Ariadne felt her skin grow cold, she was pressed back in her chair as far as the metal bars would allow, "No."

For a time now, the architect has suspected that she was dealing with someone who was far more dangerous than she was appearing. This was a façade, no one with sane mental capacities would go into this line of work.

That fake veneer melted away when she told the woman off again.

Isabella leaned forward and got her by the collar, pulled her in close over the table. Ari's eyes wandered around the room, the tea service woman seemed to have noticed the interaction, but she appeared to be ignoring it. What was she supposed to do if there were two assassins in the café with her?

"How far along are you?"

"Fuck off."

"Seven months maybe? Little more, little less?"

"I just finished the seventh month."

"Now you listen to me, you're far enough along that I can drag you into a back alley," Her fingers twisted in Ari's shirt fabric, "And slit your ever-loving throat."

Ari, in the face of this woman, gulped noticeably.

"And while you're dying, I will cut that child out of you, just to spite you and its bastard of a father. Do you understand me?"

"Yes."

She pushed Ariadne back so hard that the chair almost flipped over; the architect had to grab onto the table just to steady herself.

"You're evil."

Isabella looked back and forth, as if she was conferring with two imaginary persons, "Exactly." She sat back in her own chair and put the face back on.

"Tell you what; would a five minute head start help?"

Ari practically choked on her own tongue, "What?"

"I promise you that you can run for five minutes; I won't chase you, but after that five is up, game on."

"You're lying to me."

"No, I won't chase you, I swear."

Ariadne didn't need to be told twice; she bolted up from her chair and made her way around the crowded tea house. She prayed that she would see Saito on the street, or at least just find somewhere new to hide.

It was slow going to get out, with the multitude of chairs, tables, and the expanse of her belly.

Isabella stayed back in her chair, watching. She didn't lie, she wouldn't chase her. Reaching into her coat pocket, the hitwoman retrieved her gun. Lining up the sights, she aimed for the direct center of Ariadne's upper back.

"Drop it."

She felt the press of cold steel on the back of her neck, a handgun.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Drop the cartridge from the gun and hand it over."

Ariadne finally exited the café, taking off down the street at about the exact moment that the entire shop became aware of the altercation taking place. People instantly backed up against the store walls and windows.

Isabella sighed, she'd lost her shot. She clicked back the case on gun and cartridge fell out to the floor. Without much fight, she handed over the handgun to the person behind her, "There."

"Get down on the ground; put your hands on your head."

The hitwoman was familiar with this routine; she complied, noting that she would disembowel this fool later, should she get the chance.

Suddenly through the front door, a suited businessman burst in, gun raised. Mr. Takayama surveyed the scene and look from the woman on the floor to the woman holding the gun on her.

He came to the wrong conclusion, but no one could have blamed him, he'd never seen Ariadne.

"Let her go." He held his gun on the other woman.

Isabella chuckled into the linoleum floor, "Oh, standoff."

Mr. Takayama didn't wait, he remembered his orders. When the woman looked down for a moment at the laughing Isabella, he shot at her. The force of the bullet knocked her back into the tea counter, sending loose leaves flying into the air.

Seizing her opportunity, Isabella reached into her pocket and retrieved her second rifle. She shot the guard that Saito had sent, once, twice, three times.

His body jerked and fell backward, the gun sliding from his hand.

The hitwoman took her sweet time getting up, and brushed off her clothes. She grinned at the surrounding persons, most of whom were still paralyzed with fear.

Isabella took some money from her pocket and tossed it to the café owner, "Here, maybe this will help get the bloodstains out."

She walked to stand over the body of the person who had been holding the gun on her in the first place. It was the little tea counter woman with the friendly smile and newly starched apron. She didn't stir. Isabella kicked her in the side, but the body was still.

"What is she, police or just some dumb bitch wanting to play hero?"

The shop owner shrugged, "She only started here a week ago."

Isabella held the gun over her, ready to put a bullet right between the woman's eyes.

Takayama groaned from across the room and she sighed, "Didn't I shoot you enough?"

The tea shop girl was dead, and Isabella decided to deal with the lingering first.

He held up his bloodstained hands in protest, but she took a sadistic pleasure when they begged.

The gun went off and the patrons shrieked.

The guards' legs kicked once and then he lay still.

It was then that the glass front window shattered and the customer standing near it huddled down to the ground to avoid the slivers of broken glass that cascaded over them.

As the gunshot cracked, Isabella felt the bullet slam into her chest.

Saito jumped in through the window frame and advanced on her. Isabella scrambled backwards on all fours until she reached her gun.

"Where's Ariadne?"

"She took off." Isabella ducked her shoulder and rolled over onto her back, her gun back in her hands and took a single shot at him.

The businessman was struck in his right arm and he wheeled backwards into the tables. Isabella jumped up, flinging off her coat, "They're called flack jackets, get one."

She would have dearly loved to stay there and cut him into small pieces, but every moment she stayed, the little architect was getting away.

All Saito saw was a pair of black leather boots running from the store.

He surveyed the scene. At least thirty or so witnesses, one dead bodyguard, and a missing Ariadne. They'd beaten him to it; he'd have to remind himself to do something to put the Cobol engineering firm out of business.

Suddenly the form of the tea counter woman sat straight up. She dusted off her uniform and jumped to her feet. Pulling back her hair into a ponytail, she re-holstered her gun and approached Saito.

"Who are you?"

"Yurika, I'm a tracker contracted to Eames." She took off the apron part of her uniform, "Flack jacket."

Holding his injured arm, the businessman nodded, "I think I'll have to buy one."

The third tracker raised an eyebrow, "It's a good idea. I've got to go, if you call Cobb, and I expect you will; let him know I'm on the job."

Yurika wasn't much for talking.

* * *

"Tell me something, Dom, why is it that whenever I work with you, I get shot?"

Cobb sighed and tried to think of what to say until he heard Saito laugh, "It was only in my arm."

"Alright, so did you see Ariadne?"

"No, she was gone by the time I got there."

"And you said it was Yurika that was tracking her?"

From the other side of the room, Eames grinned, "I remember her. She gets all worked up after a case and – " But the Brit stopped and kept it to himself while Arthur rolled his eyes.

"What did the hitwoman look like?"

"She was a tall, thin, long black hair. She was beautiful, but very harsh."

Arthur shook his head, "Cobol has several hitwomen who have a similar look, that doesn't help."

"Okay, Saito, I would keep your guards around. Let us know if she calls you again."

"I will."

* * *

Ariadne had hailed a taxi and asked the driver to take her to nearest hotel. She tried to throw her chaser off the trail by staying close.

She held it together until she reached her room.

Once inside, she bolted the door closed and fell onto the bed. Holding her stomach, she sobbed uncontrollably. Her hormones were playing with her, surely, but she felt so alone and afraid. It was bad enough that the hitmen were threatening Arthur, but the chance that her own baby could be ripped from her and raised by someone like Isabella was terrifying.

An hour later, she finally fell asleep, determined to head back home if for nothing more than familiar territory.


	12. Silver Bells in the City

Chapter 12: Silver Bells in the City

A/N: Coming to the end soon, I promise! I would also like to note that the things I'm mentioning by name in these stories actually do exist. "Omi Sushi" is a real and exquisite restaurant and "Silver Bells in the City" is a real celebration; all in Michigan. All my time in Japan was spent with a family, so I never caught any restaurant names over there and had to use one from here! 'Cause my host mommy cooked at home and spoiled me.

Oh, and the building I describe here actually is an abandoned structure, I've seen the inside of it to some extent and it's weird so I apologize if it's not the best described place I can offer!

* * *

Marcus dialed up the second hitman from a payphone in Osaka, "Trenton?"

"Yes?"

"We think she's heading back to the states, I need you to find out where she's going and keep an eye on her."

"But I'm with my family right now."

The first hitman paused for a moment before continuing, "You get off your lazy ass and do it. We've been taking it easy on you; Isabella's been doing your job while you visit mommy and daddy."

"My father is the one who got me into this line of work."

"Well, Cobol isn't just going to keep you on the payroll for grins. Kid, why don't you get out there and make your father proud?"

The phone hung up and Trenton clicked it closed. With a resigned sigh, he walked back into the dining room where his family was half eating and half watching television. His mother looked up when he retrieved his plate from the table and walked away.

"Honey? What's wrong?"

"The target's coming back to the states it looks like, and they need me to watch her."

"I thought that Isabella was watching her."

"She got away."

"Well, alright sweetie." His mother tilted her head to one side, sadly, "I think your computer is still in your old room."

"Night, mom."

"Good night." His mother returned to take her place next to his father at the dinner table.

"What's going on?" The father asked, barely moving his eyes from the television.

"Cobol called Trenton back to work, they say that one girl has managed to give Isabella the slip in Osaka."

"Really? Isabella must be losing it; she's never lost one before."

The mother sighed, "Are you sure we want him to be in this line of work? Wouldn't he be better in money laundering or shaking down your debtors?"

"He has to cut his teeth somewhere." The father kissed his wife on the forehead and returned to the TV while the two younger children laid on the sofa and carpets under the glaring light of the latest reality program.

* * *

Ariadne came from a divided family. Her parents had been divorced since she was little and she spent her time between their different houses and countries. She held dual citizenship with Canada, where her father lived, but had grown up with her mother in central Michigan. It was easy enough; at least she didn't have to change money every time she went back and forth over the border.

Except for now. Now things were different and she was barred from her home for everyone else's protection.

December came cold and frozen to the north, with sheets of snow that would only get worse over the next few months. Wool knit coat on her back, she walked the streets of the capital, her heels clicking on the cement walkway.

As daylight came to an early end, she found herself on the streets, bathed in the soft pink yellow of the streetlights while the Capital lights burned a brighter gold against the night sky. Snowflakes twirled against the black and shimmering in the prism light. Everything was cold and dark, but she felt oddly warm and calmed by it all.

It was familiar.

It was safe.

It was the approach of Christmas in the city.

Instrumental music played from the speakers on the streetlamps, soft dulcet tones that ripped over the pavement.

She looked over to see a police officer helping another woman push her car out of the snowed in streets. When he was done, he noticed Ariadne staring and walked over to her, "Miss, do you need any help with your car?"

"No, I'm fine, I walked here."

"You better hurry to the bus-stop then, last one leaves here at 9:30 unless you're heading to the campus."

"Thanks." She continued onto the next stop with the cop watching after her.

"Poor thing." He shook his head as she climbed onto the bus and went about his patrols; which mostly included helping the diligent who stayed late to get their cars out of the snow.

The bus shook and rattled along the salted, slush roads. As they got further from the city proper, the lights dimmed until it was merely the glow of Christmas bulbs on the ever present Michigan pines that adorned forests and front lawns alike.

She wanted nothing more than to drag her tired body up the steps to her mother's house and fall asleep on the couch with the Christmas day parade on TV as her background music.

As she got off at her hotel, it suddenly dawned on her that she hadn't checked in with her family for nearly six and a half months. Her family was probably worried sick about her, and to make it worse, this baby would be their first grandchild. The hell that she had been through was being emotionally shared across the States and Canada.

Ariadne had found a small hotel on MSU campus to reside. The enormous population of students and townies would make her difficult to locate.

* * *

Arthur had a feeling that he knew where Ariadne was headed. She loved the holidays as much as anyone he knew.

As a study abroad student, her anthem was "There's No Place like Home for the Holidays." Last season, he'd been separated from her from Thanksgiving through New Year's Eve, when he'd stolen into Canada for the first kiss of the New Year. Not to mention an awkward conversation with her parents over whom he was to their only daughter; he was only so lucky that the parents had a very mature relationship after their divorce.

Last year was Canada, this year would be Michigan.

Maybe she wouldn't run right to her mother's front door, but she would be in the area, that much he knew.

This time, he wasn't leaving it up to the trackers, although the Russian was already on the trail. Cobb had gone to London to spend the Christmas season with his children, but justly concerned for their safety, he would be spending it inside in the safe house with them and Yusuf.

This time, he and Eames would go themselves.

* * *

Ariadne was surprised to see her face in the local newspaper with reward money offered for information regarding her whereabouts. She'd already been going around in disguise, but this was interesting to her. Whatever happened to the milk carton advertisement?

She put the paper back down in the coffeehouse and ordered herself a hot chocolate. She missed her coffee terribly, but she was already in too much stress to take advantage of the one cup a day provision. As it was, she was worried constantly about the growth of the baby, if he or she was okay. The child was kicking almost hourly these days, depriving her of all kinds of sleep. Ariadne thought that she must look a mess with the dark circles under her eyes and her large stomach.

Some woman had called her a "pitiable child" at one point. She made it a point to never return to that particular store.

With the hot chocolate warming her hands, she made her way back out onto the street. The place was packed with people standing shoulder to shoulder, but they made way for her wherever possible. Silver Bells in the City, an electric light parade, was a small affair next to the marches held in New York or in Disney, but she was fond of it.

The parade led to the lighting of the state Holiday tree, the people were generally jovial, and local merchants gave away free drinks and candy to whoever walked into their stores.

Plus, her parents would be there.

Every year that they held celebrations in Michigan, they went to the parade. With a certain amount of heartbreak, she knew they would be there this year, if for nothing else than to find solace with each other in the disappearance of their daughter.

With her head lowered, she moved through the group until she came as close to the giant pine tree as she dared.

There they were. Huddled together against the cold, sitting on one of the many public benches. Both of them were just staring out at the crowd, uninterested in the ongoing festivities.

Ariadne's lower lip trembled. She wanted desperately to fall into her parents' arms and hug them close to her. If she couldn't have that, then she would have given them anything to let them know she was alright.

It was at that moment that something made her look to her left, and she stopped, a little breath caught in her throat. Fear gripped her, and she turned her back, trying to look for the easiest way to escape.

* * *

"Well, this is a cheery scene." Eames ducked his head down into the collar of his jacket.

"Sure." Arthur was too busy scanning the crowd to care about what the forger was talking about.

"What's the matter Arthur? You're not a fan of Christmas? Chestnuts roasting on an open fire, figgie pudding and all that?"

The point man sighed, "I'm Jewish, Eames, it doesn't lend itself to Christmas traditions."

"Oh dear," Eames sighed, "What will Ariadne's mother think?"

"Shut up and look, will you?"

"Once again, untwist your knickers darling, I am looking." Eames sighed. He knew that Arthur would never see her first, he had the distinct advantage. The forger knew he was looking for a woman who would be heavily pregnant; Arthur would most likely pass over any that he saw.

Quite a ways down, near the tree, someone caught his eye. A petite little thing with a belly bump that not even the most skilled celebrity could hide.

For a moment, she looked over at him and then turned away.

Eames was certain that it was her.

* * *

Ariadne couldn't let herself be found, not here, not now. She, Arthur, her parents; were all sitting ducks in this crowd.

There was an abandoned YMCA building a few blocks down she'd seen in a few weeks before the parade. It was neither boarded up nor had the doors chained, only padlocked. Eames had taught her how to break a deadbolt.

At a quick clip, she ran back into the crowd, trying desperately to cover her tracks with the multitude of persons around her.

The minute she took off, she could feel someone running behind her. She didn't have to look back to know that Eames was hot on her heels.

Luck was on her side though, while the crowd parted for her, they did not do so for him. In reality, some good Samaritans who realized that he was chasing her, tripped him up or deliberately got in his way.

As the distance between them increased, Ariadne ran between the buildings. She knew that it was only a matter of time before he caught up with her and she wasn't near enough to the building to hide inside. Ducking around the back of the building, she leaned back against the wall.

"Well, aren't I the lucky one." The second hitman, Trenton, walked around from the other side of the building.

Ariadne looked back and forth between him and the open alleyway that would lead her back towards Arthur and Eames.

"Leave me alone."

"No chance." He was a kid playing tough, intimidating only because of the knife he clutched in a shaking hand. Trenton had never really killed anyone before; Ariadne was a gift to him from Cobol. An easy to catch, teeth cutting, first murder. He didn't relish it, but he wanted to make his parents proud.

She ran out to the right, trying to get around him. Back in the alley, the snow had not been cleared from the walkway, and she slid slightly, bumping her hip against the brick wall.

Laughing, the youngest hitman reached out as if to grab her, his knife raised in his hand. From behind him, from the same side of the building he'd attacked her from; a second hand reached out and grabbed the young man, pulling him back violently.

"Run!" Alexi yelled at Ariadne, coming out from the shadows. The architect took off toward the abandoned structure she'd originally been heading for.

The Russian slammed the hitman back against the wall and cracked his head against it, "I've been following you."

Dazed from the blow to his skull, Trenton staggered a bit, holding his hand to his temple, "Who are you?"

Alexi reached down and grabbed the hand that held the knife, peeling back the fingers and taking the blade, "You know, if you and your friend hadn't interfered, my friend would still be alive right now."

"What?"

The tracker's voice grew cold, "I am sick of you and your pathetic group. You would torment a pregnant woman and kill my friend?"

Trenton felt himself pressed back against the wall; he was still reeling from the hit earlier. The sharp bite of the knife into his neck was the next distinct sensation he felt. He could feel the blood run hot down his skin against the cold night air.

With every passing moment, he felt weaker, held up by the tracker against the brick while he bled onto the dirty snow.

He was aware of the approach of two other men, but by then his vision was so blurry that he couldn't make them out. Trenton slid down onto the ground and lapsed into unconsciousness.

For all the anger that Alexi felt, he had allowed the boy a calm death, a slightly painful descent into a perpetual sleep. The second hitman was too you to suffer a brutal death that he hadn't earned yet.

Arthur and Eames stared down at the body in the grimy slush while their friend wiped his fingerprints from the blade handle and tossed the knife to the ground.

"Where'd she go?"

"She headed that way."

"C'mon!"

The three men took off in the direction that Alexi indicated.

* * *

Ariadne ran around to the back of the YMCA building, the longer she stayed out front, the more noticeable she was. Arthur couldn't find out, not like this.

She took a risk and climbed up the fire escape when she didn't have enough time to break in the ground door. Luckily for her, it had been built when construction quality was high and it held.

The third floor door was easy to crack, and she got inside just as the others came around the corner. Closing the door behind her, she realized that it would be only a few minutes before Arthur would figure out where she went.

Running out into the stairwell, she took the stairs down to the basement, something he wouldn't expect her to do. The ground floor was eerie, a deserted wasteland of abandoned equipment. She was frankly surprised that the building hadn't been broken into and stripped of all the leftover goods.

It was obvious that the basement was the where the court had formerly been and she noticed that the large screens separating the various areas had been pulled back. The walls were outfitted with padding that was falling off. Unlike newer buildings, the interior walls were not made of cement blocks, but were wood. She ran to about the middle of the room and knocked on the exposed paneling. It was hollow. While she was grateful that such a design wouldn't be permitted these days, she thanked god that it existed in this capacity.

With shaking hands, she pulled back a piece of the old wood and it peeled back. There was just enough room to step inside if she stood sideways. Checking for the random nail, she quite literally disappeared inside the wall, pulling the panel back into place after her.

This YMCA must have been an Elk's lodge or Kiwanis club at one time, she mused.

* * *

Arthur had followed the footprints in the snow straight into the building. Being that it was a club in the city, it spanned at least eight floors. Each of them took a floor and began the search.

She hadn't even heard them until one of the group began to throw around desks on the second floor.

Ariadne grew quiet, she forced herself to slow her breathing down as much as was possible but she was certain that she could hear her heart pounding against her ribs.

It wasn't long before the group reached the basement. They came together, being that the basement was the most crowded.

Weight sets crashed to the ground and she held her hand over her mouth to keep from crying out in shock every time something was thrown.

The curtains separating the rooms were pulled out and set back; mats for tumbling were pulled back from the wall. After nearly ten minutes, everything quieted down and she could hear them talking.

Eames was complaining of a hurt back while the Russian seemed to be very unappreciative of the Brit's supposed ailment.

She then heard Arthur, "Well, she either sneaked out while we were upstairs or she's got to be in this room somewhere."

"I have no idea, mate, but I think it's clear we taught the little girl too well."

"What do we do now?"

"I don't know," Arthur was sighing as far as she could tell, she envisioned him standing there in a traveling suit, rubbing the back of his neck.

The baby kicked; she waited.

All of the rest was silence, she heard only the three men standing just feet from her. And she wondered why she was hiding from them. This wasn't her, even protecting herself, she felt like a coward behind the wall. Isabella wasn't there, nor the other hitmen. Certainly, the three men could get her to safety before the other Cobol team found out.

Without warning, there was a loud crash from the ground level floor, "Police! Come out with your hands up!"

"Shit!" She heard Eames mutter, "They must have seen us break in."

* * *

Marcus couldn't have planned it better. Well, except for the death of Trenton, but the first hitman had found that he didn't care much for his accomplice. He was cold, lying on the roof of one of the smaller buildings, watching the cops pull up to the YMCA building. His untraceable cell phone died in the snow; he no longer needed it after making an anonymous call that a couple of murderers were taking refuge in the building, and were armed and dangerous to boot.

Now he actually had a body to go along with his preplanned lie, and one less person to babysit. Kid had no initiative anyway.

Raising his high powered sniper rifle, he waited.

* * *

"Alright, we're coming up, don't shoot, we're unarmed." Arthur's voice was measured and calm. He nodded to his friends and they grudgingly put their hands on the backs of their heads.

"What are we doing exactly?" Alexi hissed.

"Don't worry about it, mate, they haven't made a prison that can hold us."

The Russian rolled his eyes, "I'm not exactly here legally you know."

"Then we'll have to break out tonight, won't we?"

The three men walked slowly up the stairs to face the police officers. Eames kept his eyes on the five men who were pointing their firearms directly at his chest and head. They looked terrified to be there, facing down what they had been told were international hitmen with each counting their kills in the hundreds.

As they were marched out into the snowy streets, Eames leaned over to Arthur, "Jumpy cops, this isn't good."

"I know." The point man whispered back.

One of the cops approached Eames and jabbed him in the ribs with his baton, "Why do you have your hands like that?"

"Like what, mate?"

The cop took note of his accent, "In America, we raise our hands like your friend there, put them up."

"Alright, alright, take it easy."

In all reality, Eames wasn't used to be shaken down by regular American police officers, federal agents perhaps, but not these. He and Alexi looked at each other and began to raise their hands to put them up and out from their bodies like Arthur.

The next thing happened in what seemed to be slow motioned. As he lifted his hands, there was a soft popping noise from somewhere out of sight. Eames was suddenly blinded as warm liquid hit him in the eyes. The forger was stunned for a second before he opened his eyes just in time to see the cop standing in front him.

The man was bleeding through a large hole in the front of his throat, and Eames reached up to his head and rubbed his cheek. When he pulled it back, his fingers were covered in blood and other things that the Brit didn't want to think about.

It was a combination of sadness and fear that shocked through him when he saw the body of the cop fall forward. Eames' left hand was still near his head and the other officers panicked at the sight of their dead comrade.

"Drop your weapon!"

"I don't have a bloody weapon! The shot came from behind!"

Two of the remaining four cops turned around to look, but saw nothing and continue to wave their pistols in front of them like shields in the air.

Realizing how fast the situation was getting out of control, the small group began to wonder if they would have to shoot their way out of this. Killing police officers was not something they wanted to engage in.

"McArthur, go check out that building." The elder cop ordered one of the deputies to inspect the building that Eames indicated. Keeping his gun on them, he kneeled down and put his hand to the dead man's neck to confirm the absence of a pulse, "Dead."

Eames had to let the retort he'd thought of go.

"Who are you people?"

"We're rescue workers," Arthur began, "We were hired to retrieve a kidnapping victim."

"Really now?" The cops hurried them back inside, out of the range of the sniper if indeed there was one.

Once inside, they kept their guns trained on the three men, one to one. The chief reached for the comm on his shoulder and radioed for backup. The point man and the forger knew they had to get out of here before more police arrived.

It was Alexi though that made the first move. While the other two were trying to concoct a plan, the Russian grabbed the policeman facing him and pulled him in, snapping the man's arm in the process. The officer cried out in pain and whimpered as his own gun was turn to his head.

"I'll kill him, I swear I will."

"Let him go!" The two other officers immediately put their hands in the air, as if trying to talk down a suicidal jumper.

"We go free, he goes with us. You follow; I'll gut him like a fucking fish."

"How do we know you won't kill him anyway?"

"I'm a murderer, but I'm honest. We get away; he goes home to his wife and kids."

"Fine, fine, just don't hurt David."

The point man and the forger ran out of the building through the back door they came in. Alexi moved back more slowly, dragging the officer with him. The two others watched as their friend was dragged out into the night. It was a scene reminiscent of the nature channel, where one watches the tiger drag the still breathing prey into the dark recesses of an unseen cave.

Behind the buildings, the night sky fell upon the alleys in an unforgiving fashion. Alexi looked around and then back at the door, "Sorry." He muttered to the cop, "You weren't supposed to get into all this." Dropping the man unceremoniously, he took off into the darkness after the other two.

* * *

The medical examiners left a few hours later. Trenton's blood still stained the snow.

In the very early hours of the morning, when the first rays of sunlight finally came, the point man snuck back in. He was clear; no one was around except for the midnight workers catching the earliest bus back home.

Snow crunched underfoot, grime ridden and peppered with rocks. Footprints were everywhere, but one set caught his eye.

A set of impossibly tiny footprints was etched out, barely recognizable. They led out around the building, through another alley and down into the food district. Finally, he reached an area that had been plowed and salted thoroughly and both he and the trail, went cold.


	13. Hello Again, Part 1 of 3

Chapter 13: Hello Again, Part 1 of 3

AN: Short, but I think you'll like how this chapter ends!

* * *

Yurika hated Dmitri. For a trained assassin, he was a boring, pretentious ass. She looked down at the books she was supposed to be shelving while the Russian hitman discussed books at her, not with her.

Her temporary job at the local Parisian bookseller had lent itself to some very unwelcome company, although she had to admit that she found it humorous that he would hit on her of all people. Of all the women in France, he had decided that the hired help of his marks, was just too lovely to pass up.

After his latest come-on line regarding nihilist literature, she hoped that Cobb would give her the chance to kill him.

The Japanese tracker had become wise to the fact that Cobol already had the tabs on her mark, and so she decided to watch him instead.

It was late one night, after work was let out that she spied him, sitting on a park bench. He was so casually seated for the middle of the night that she thought it rather odd.

Slinking back into the small alley behind the shop, she watched and waited to see what the fourth hitman was doing.

Time ticked by almost painfully, but he did not move and Yurika's brow furled.

The silence was broken by the soft pat of shoes, almost tip-toeing across the street. With her eyes adjusted to the dark, she leaned in.

Ariadne was back in France?

Yurika did a double take. She was expecting Isabella or maybe Marcus to be here, but not the girl they were all supposed to be chasing. Where was that Alexi when she needed him? Wasn't he supposed to be tracking her?

For a moment, the little architect paused and looked over at the Russian hitman, as if she wasn't sure that he was even there. In such mellowed lighting, he was a hard person to identify.

Dmitri didn't move and Ariadne ducked her head back into her collar and continued onward, though perhaps a bit faster than before.

The Japanese tracker ground her teeth, Cobol was still messing with the girl's head, still trying to scare and harass her beyond what was necessary. The entire company was like a cat toying with unfortunate mice.

Her debt was owed to Eames, that cocky bastard that she had a particular affection for, but she knew Arthur, had met him on occasion. Cobol irked her.

She pulled out her cell phone and dialed up Eames' emergency line, "I found her; bring the team back to Paris."

A pause.

"Yes, I said 'back to Paris,' what do you think, I'm lying to you?"

* * *

Ariadne picked up the pace. The weather was surprisingly temperate for January. She'd fled Michigan right after New Years and returned to the other place she knew the best.

Walking down the street, she was further out from her hiding place than she wanted, but needed to get to the nearest hospital. Any day now, she was due, and she had been going through the various medical institutions to see who had the most secure buildings or policies. So far, she was terribly disappointed in what awaited her. She had retained enough money to hire a random guard if need be, but she hoped that it wouldn't become necessary.

She pushed open the glass door and walked inside, her blood still running cold from seeing the strange man who was on the bench under the sky's night cover.

Seeing her condition, the woman behind the desk immediately ran over to her and Ariadne addressed her in French.

"It's okay, I'm not in labor."

"Can I help you?"

"I'm trying to find a hospital where I can have the baby in the future."

The woman looked confused, "No hospital would refuse you."

"No, there's a problem. Someone is looking for me and I want to give birth in peace."

The administrator made her own connections, "The father of the child is abusive?"

She had to bite her lip, "Yes, he can be, at times. I just want him to be kept away from the hospital."

"Obviously, if anyone becomes dangerous, we will have them removed, and we can bar him from coming into the room."

"Do you have guards?"

"Is he that abusive?" The woman looked shocked.

Ariadne hung her head in despair, trying to play the role with her own very real fear.

"We have staff security, but usually they are only called when we have to treat criminals."

Ariadne attempted to appear as sympathetic as possible. The woman was unsure of her, "I don't know if that is something we can just order though, I think there must be an incident first."

"Can I bring my own guard?"

"Madame?" The woman leaned in close, "Do you want me to call social services?"

"No." Ari backed up a bit, "He doesn't know, it's just a 'what-if' scenario."

The administrator seemed unconvinced, but Ariadne turned and walked out. It wasn't that she didn't want the police to be involved, but she wasn't confident that they could do anything to help her.

If she was risking too much to have the baby at the hospital, she wondered if she could have the child at home. It wasn't an option she relished.

Back on the street, she drew in a deep breath and looked around; there was not a soul in sight. Sighing, she proceeded to take the long way back to her current hotel hiding place in the heart of Paris.

A good tracker is never detectable.

* * *

"Have you found out where she's living?"

"Yeah."

"Then why don't we just go and pick her up right now?" Arthur rubbed the back of his neck.

"I can't guarantee that she's at home. She leaves during the day and comes back for a few hours each night, if at all." Yurika was exasperated, as the team could clearly see.

"Do you want us to send Alexi?"

"No, Alexi is too recognizable. The only one that knows me is that bitch."

Chuckling, Eames looked over the third tracker and her body language. She wanted to wring Isabella's neck.

Cobb, who had rejoined the team after the holidays, looked up from where he was seated at the table, "What's the plan?"

"Tomorrow, be ready. I'm going to follow her and when she goes home, we'll confront her in her room away from the public. It won't be too hard to get her back here safely."

"Alright then, love, I'm waiting on your call."

Yurika nodded and took her leave of the team.

* * *

The day was going by slowly. Yurika had found herself bringing up stock from the basement due to the lack of any customers.

Her boss was an interesting, odd little woman who flitted from bookcase to bookcase without really doing much of anything.

"Yurika?"

"Yes?"

"I'm leaving for lunch, would you mind taking care of the store for a little while?"

"Sure." Wiping the book dust onto her pants, the Japanese tracker marched up the stairs to the front counter. The stairs were a dangerous enterprise at times; she took them slowly, carefully. Keeping her head down, she was hoping to avoid the boorish Dmitri should he happen to be in the store.

When she finally lifted her head, she was staring a small petite girl in the eyes.

Ariadne looked back at her with a look of fear in her eyes. This was the woman from Osaka that she'd seen only a few minutes before Isabella's attack and now, she was in a random bookstore in Paris.

Without a word, the architect took off running out of the front of the store.

Yurika jumped up and over the counter, she pulled out her cell phone, "Eames?"

"Yes?"

"Are you close by the bookstore I told you about?"

"Few streets over, why?"

"She's here, she's running again. If we don't catch her now, she may leave the country."

"Can you direct her toward me? I'm near the north end of the park."

"I can try." Yurika pulled out her gun, "Watch for me."

"Will do."

She took off into the street. The architect was running, trying to hold her stomach with her hands. Yurika was fairly impressed at the speed with which she was able to move.

Suddenly realizing that she was heading in the wrong direction, the tracker pulled out her gun and aimed for the building directly in front of the architect.

The bullet chipped the wall and sent little bits of rock flying into the air.

Ariadne paused, and took off in the other direction. Yurika grinned and ran after her, trying to keep her aim steady.

Another shot pushed the architect around a corner, and the tracker silently cursed her skills while she ran. They were not up to her standards and it worried her; she didn't want to actually hit the girl.

"Damn, damn damn." She muttered, keeping up the pace.

Yurika had to stop. Breathing hard, she halted, and put up the gun, aiming high for the corner of the next building. It clipped easily and Ariadne was finally on the correct route that Yurika wanted for her.

* * *

The architect covered her head with one of her hands as little bits of gravel rained down. She was far too scared running to contemplate why her pursuer was such a terrible shot.

In the last alley, she stopped, she had to. She put both her hands against the nearest wall and leaned forward.

Ariadne hadn't been feeling well all day, and the stress of the chase had brought on another feeling of illness and her stomach tightened considerably. She let her head hang down and she just tried to remember to breathe.

She could see with limited vision, the feet of her attacker approaching. Through gritted teeth, she questioned her, "Why are you chasing me?"

"I'm not chasing you; I'm trying to help you."

"You were shooting at me!" Finally, she was able to lift up her head and look at her, "Don't you work with Isabella?"

"Hell no." Yurika laughed.

"Then why are you doing this?"

Ariadne saw the smirk on her face, "Technically, I was distracting you."

"Distracting me?"

The Japanese tracker nodded and looked past Ariadne, but before the architect could turn herself, she was spun around by someone behind her.

"Well hello there love!" A cheerful voice greeted her, and she looked up, having the disadvantage in height.

It was a grinning, cocky Eames who looked back at her, and despite her relief at seeing him again, she still felt awful.

He was chuckling and he called back to the woman, "Thanks Yurika, hang around Paris will you? I owe you one."

Looking back at the architect, he sized her up for a moment, "You've grown a bit, haven't you?"


	14. Hello Again, Part 2 of 3

Chapter 14: Hello Again, Part 2 of 3

AN: Please review! By the way, thank you to rainstop for that lovely idea. I had been grappling with what to do, and your idea was perfect!

I'm going for the bonus points with this chapter, what with Eames and the dragging and all.

Yep, Oneagemtron, you were the hundredth review!

* * *

"Let me go!" Ariadne tried to push Eames off of her, but he held onto her shoulders with no small amount of force.

"Not on your life, little girl."

"It will be my life if you keep me here! Mine, yours, Arthur's, everyone's!"

"Not hardly." He rolled his eyes, a touch irked that she'd imagine him being afraid of Cobol in any way, shape or form, "C'mon, let's get you to the safehouse."

"There are hitmen following me! If they find you, they'll kill everyone!"

"Yes, I'm aware, but they can't break into the safehouse, that's why it's safe." Keeping a tight hold on her, he ushered her further down the alley. She dragged her feet, but he merely lifted her up off them.

"I'm not playing, Ari."

"Neither am I!" She pushed back against him again, "Set me down for just a minute, please."

Eames complied, but kept a hold on her wrist. She leaned back against the nearest wall, breathing hard.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't know," She paused, answering him between breaths, "I think, that chase? My body couldn't handle it."

He nodded and stood there next to her, praying that no one happened to be being nosy at the moment. There was little bit of indignity wrapped up in his work that he'd learned to tolerate.

After a minute or two, she showed signs of improvement. Eames tugged lightly on her wrist and after getting a deathly glare from Ariadne, he continued to drag her off again.

* * *

Dmitri scowled from his hiding place at the little scene that played out beneath him. It was bad enough that the team had finally gotten their hands on his mark, but that the cute Asian girl from the bookstore was actually on their side; positively infuriated him.

He flipped open his cell phone, "Isabella? You're in Paris right?"

"Yes, with Marcus, like you asked." The hitwoman's voice came in exasperated sighs like an annoyed schoolgirl being told that she couldn't go out that night.

"Eames and the others are here, he just picked up Ariadne off the street."

"What do we do?"

"You two go to the safehouse I showed you. I'm going to see if I can pick them off from here."

"Alright, we're heading out."

As the Russian hitman set down the phone gently next to him, he raised his sniper rifle and pointed it at the Forger first.

There was a small voice behind him, "Pick who off?"

"What?" Glancing back over his shoulder, he saw Yurika standing there; she still had the book dust on her jeans.

For a moment, he couldn't find the words with which to respond to her, and she didn't look as though she wanted them anyway. He instead looked her over, and he immediately focused on the large crowbar she held in her small hands.

"A little piece of advice," She was relishing this moment, he realized, watching her advance on him, stunned into paralysis, "Never use Nietzsche as an ice-breaker."

Yurika brought down her arm hard and connected the crowbar with Dmitri's right temple. Walking back to the stairs on the rooftop, she looked down at her jeans and sighed. The book dust would be easy enough to brush off, but she was going to have to treat the bloodstains now if she ever wanted to get them out.

She wandered off to find a shop that sold club soda in some form.

* * *

Isabella made a weird face as she listened on her cell phone. In the room, Marcus gathered weapons and kept watching her.

"Something wrong?"

"I think Dmitri's getting slaughtered or something."

"What?"

"I don't know, he put the phone down and then I heard someone in the background. Then there was this noise and some kind of death rattle thing."

Marcus set down the handgun and stared at her, "Really?"

Isabella shrugged, "Yeah, I guess."

"Well fuck," Muttered Marcus, and he picked up the gun again, putting it in his side holster, "Guess he won't need his guns anymore, will he?"

"Not really, dibs on his sniper rifle when we find the body."

"Fine," Marcus laughed, tossing her the knife she usually concealed in her boot, "You're such a greedy bitch."

Isabella laughed and slid the dagger into her thigh-high leather, "Let's go make somebody bleed."

* * *

Eames hailed a nearby taxicab and as it pulled up, he whispered over to Ariadne, "Don't give me any trouble."

"Don't tell me what to do."

"I can either drag you the whole way, or we can go in the cab."

When the taxi stopped for them, Eames decided against trusting her and pulled his sidearm on the driver, "Sorry mate, I need your cab for a bit if you don't mind."

With his hands in the air, the driver got out of the other door, "No, take it, take it, just don't shoot me."

"Good, now take a walk please."

The forger opened the passenger side door and shoved Ariadne down into the seat. He flipped on the child locks and slammed the door. Running around to the other side, he got in and put the car into drive.

"Why did you put the child locks on?" Ari leaned back in the seat, "It's not like I'm going to jump out while you're driving."

"It's for when we stop, dear; I don't trust you not to run on me."

"You're leading them right to the safehouse."

"They already know where it is, I'm pretty sure."

She looked at him, surprised, "And that doesn't bother you?"

"Not at all, I know where their safehouse is. The whole thing is like a big game of capture the flag, we stay on our sides, but we know where the field is."

"Why didn't you tell me about any of this?"

"Frankly, after the Saito job, we figured the tensions had died down a bit. Didn't expect Cobol to send out their best and brightest to ruin our fun."

Things were silent for a moment before Eames announced with pride, "Alexi killed that one who went after you in the alley."

"Oh," Ari sighed, "Good."

"Why didn't you come to us?"

Ariadne didn't answer for a moment; she simply stared straight ahead at the road. The Brit looked over at her face; it was tense and she appeared to be deep in thought.

"Ari? Are you sure you're alright?"

She snapped out of her trance, "Yeah."

"So, why didn't you come to us?"

"They told me they'd kill all of you if I lead them to you or if you found me. Then they just kept coming after me."

"For future reference, you're safer with us than on your own."

"I think I did okay."

"Yeah, that jail stunt in Mombasa was pure genius." The rest of the ride was conducted in silence until Eames pulled up outside what appeared to be an abandoned office structure. He got out and walked over to her side, opening the door for her.

Ariadne got out and stood there, staring at Eames, "Is Arthur mad at me?"

"For running away? He's probably a bit miffed, but he seems to be more worried about you than anything else."

"What about the baby?"

"Oh that." Eames rubbed the back of his neck, "Alexi and I thought that it would be best to keep that a secret so you could tell Arthur yourself."

The forger instantly recognized that look of pure terror in Ariadne's eyes. He reached out and grabbed her before she could take off again.

* * *

Arthur walked out of the improvised kitchen in the safehouse, empty coffee cup in hand, "When's Eames coming back with the coffee?"

"I don't know." Cobb didn't even look up from his computer, "How long has he been gone?"

"Maybe an hour?" The point man sighed and stood there a moment.

There was a noise in the stairwell leading down to the last locked door, and Cobb picked up his gun as a precaution, "That's probably him."

When the door was kicked open, Cobb raised the gun, wary that it might be one of Cobol's agents instead. He had to lean in and get a better look, since the forger stood with his back to them, obviously struggling with another person.

"Eames? What's going on?"

"You'll never believe what I found!" The Brit's voice was playful, gleeful, and he knew he had both of their attentions.

Finally, he hauled the person he had been struggling with bodily into the room and kicked the door shut behind them.

Her last escape route cut off, the architect stopped fighting the forger and simply allowed him to hold her up by her shoulders. Running her finger tips over her eyelids, she tried to wipe her eyes clean of the room and persons before her, wishing she was simply dreaming this.

In the distance, she heard the sound of a coffee cup hitting the floor and shattering.

Eames leaned over and whispered to her, "I told you that you wouldn't want me to make the announcement."

"Shut up." She meant to hiss the words, but instead only sighed them. Ariadne kept looking at the floor, unwilling to meet anyone's eyes.

It was Dom who first approached her; he ducked low to see her face, "Ariadne?"

She looked at him, "Hey Dom."

Without warning, the extractor pulled the architect into a light hug, "We were worried about you."

"How are James and Phillipa?"

"They're fine; they're with Yusuf in London."

"Good."

"Are you okay? Do you need a doctor?"

"I think I'm okay, just a little too much stress."

He stepped away from her for a moment and looked at her, almost as if he hadn't really seen her before now. For a moment, he stared down at her stomach and then back up at her, and he called back over his shoulder, "Arthur, you didn't tell me – "

"I didn't know."

Ariadne couldn't see him, but she heard his distinct voice and she was instantly afraid when she couldn't hear any emotion in it. After so much time with him, she had grown to hear through his analytical, often monotone voice. She hoped terribly that she was just out of practice after seven months on the run.

Cobb stepped to the side to reveal Arthur, and as she looked at him, both the extractor and the forger moved a few paces back.

The point man's face was unreadable and she felt her stomach tense considerably.

"You're pregnant."

"Yeah."

"How far along?"

"Any day now."

"Any day now?" He echoed her, and she finally heard what she'd been listening for.

She had managed to shock him into near speechlessness, but she could see that his mind was working overtime.

"Did you know before you left?"

"No, I found out a little after."

"A little after? Why didn't you leave me a note? Something?"

"I was scared. I had a bunch of hitmen chasing after me, and I was trying to hide it from them too. After what happened in Mombasa and Osaka, I was scared for you and the baby; I just wanted to be hidden."

Arthur's eyes went back and forth, obviously thinking over the time schedule, and he turned to Eames, "Did Alexi tell you she was pregnant? She would have been showing by then."

The forger sighed, "Yes."

The tone in Arthur's voice was angrier, "And you didn't tell me?"

"I thought that it would distract you from finding her, so I told Yurika and Alexi to keep their mouths shut."

Ariadne gasped as the next thing she saw, Arthur's fist connected with Eames' jaw. The forger dropped to one knee, spitting a bit of blood out of his mouth.

"You had no goddamn right to keep that from me!" Fists clenched at his sides, Arthur stood over his teammate.

"Alright, darling, I deserved that," Eames rotated his jaw to see if it was broke and stood back up, "But I thought it was her right to get to tell you first."

The two men regarded each other for a minute before Ariadne's soft voice reached them, "He's right Arthur; it was my job to tell you."

"You ran from me, Ari, I could have protected you. Cobol's hitmen are nothing new around here."

"I didn't know that. God, Arthur, how many times do I have to tell you that I was scared? I almost died in Mombasa, and that Isabella woman told me that she was going to kill you and steal the baby if she saw you again." She reached out and grabbed his hands in hers, "I didn't mean to hurt you."

Finally, she had been able to see the answers in his eyes. Shock had given way to pain that he'd been excluded from this process up until now, that she hadn't trusted him to take care of her in this condition.

He turned his wrists and managed to lock his fingers with hers, "I know. Ari, nobody is happier to see you back and safe than me, but I wasn't expecting this."

Arthur gestured toward her stomach and Ariadne used her grip on his hand to pull him in and lay his hand on her stomach. For a moment she watched his face as he simply stared at her large belly.

"Are you upset?"

The point man didn't even look up; he was so focused by what was before him, "No."

He felt her squeeze his hands tightly, beyond the normal reassuring grasp that he was used to, "Ari?"

Her face was pale, "I think I need to sit down."

Arthur walked her over to the nearest chair and she collapsed into it. Ariadne held her stomach, "I haven't been feeling well all day."

Dom walked over and stood next to Arthur, "Haven't been feeling well like nausea, or you've been having pains?"

"Pains," Admitted Ari, "But I've been having those Braxton-Hicks contractions."

"Yeah, you have those until you get the actual contractions." Dom began to look around the room for his phone, "How long have they been going on?"

"Since last night."

The extractor stopped for a moment and thought, "Pretty continuous?"

"Yeah."

"Shit." Dom finally grabbed up his phone, "Sounds just like when Mal was in labor."

Ariadne began to breathe harder, the prospect of going into active labor terrified her.

"We need to get you to a doctor."

"Alright, alright." She muttered, holding tightly onto Arthur's hands.

There was a pounding noise on the outer door of the safehouse and Eames flipped on the security camera.

Rolling his eyes, he pointed up at the screen, "Looks like we've got company."

Marcus and Isabella were looking directly back at the camera and a chill ran through Ariadne even though she knew the two couldn't see her.

Isabella had the most devious little grin on her face.


	15. Hello Again, Part 3 of 3

Chapter 15: Hello Again, Part 3 of 3

A/N: Thanks for the reviews, and please keep reviewing! I love to hear specific likes or dislikes if at all possible.

* * *

"Alright mates, so what do we do?"

Cobb turned and looked at the forger, "They know about the back way out?"

"Probably, all it would take would be one of them at each entrance and we're pretty well caught."

"There's no way we can move her now, and it'll be harder after the baby gets here." The extractor sighed and paced the room, "The longer we wait, the more time they have to call in backup. This whole thing could turn into a siege now that they have everyone they want in one place."

"That's what I was afraid of." Muttered Ariadne. A particularly strong pain came and she leaned back, her one hand gripped Arthur's while the other held onto the seat of the chair.

The point man looked over to his friends, "Whatever we're going to do, let's do it fast."

Eames shrugged, "Let's go up and give them the fight they want. Arthur caught that one; they can't be too hard to kill."

"Thanks Eames." Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Well, besides the whole, 'we can't wait them out' idea, what about Ari?"

"Huh?" She looked over at him. Little spots of red were beginning to form on her cheeks.

"What if something goes wrong? We might need to get to medical services."

"What?" The red on Ariadne's cheeks quickly flushed her entire face and she looked ready to panic.

The forger was quickly interrupted as the point man strode up to him, grabbed his arm and turned him around to face away from the others, "Don't."

"Don't what, Arthur? You're the one who always wants to be realistic, and I'm being realistic. You should be thrilled."

His voice low, the point man, brought the forger's ear down a bit, "Be realistic all you want, but not in front of her. She's been through enough stress; she doesn't need to worry about something going wrong during the delivery."

The truthfulness of his point sunk in and Eames shook him off, "Fine, fine. I'll keep my mouth shut then."

"Well you've been good at it lately, let's continue the pattern."

The forger rolled his eyes and they both went back to Dom. For a few minutes, the three men stood there in small circle, contemplating their various options.

"How well out-fitted are we?"

"In terms of weaponry, I'd say that luck is on our side."

"Alright," Dom looked at his teammates, "Eames, you and I are going up to confront them; Arthur can stay down here with Ariadne."

The point man was his usual type of stoic, "No."

Ariadne looked confused, "No?"

"Dom, were you able to be with Mal when she had your children?"

"Yeah, I was in the delivery room for both of them."

"Then I'd say you're the best qualified to stay with Ari, right?"

Cobb looked a little confused for a moment, but he nodded after a second.

"Arthur? You can't leave me!"

He walked over to the architect and tilted her face upward, kissing her. With trembling hands, she held onto him, realizing just how much she had missed this.

When he finally broke apart from her, he rested his forehead against hers, "It'll be okay, I promise."

"I can't have this baby without you."

"I'll be back as soon as I can."

"But what happens if – "

"Ari, please." She was not entirely satisfied with his answer, and he knew that she wouldn't be.

Across the room, Eames grabbed a few of their finer, bigger guns, for himself and Arthur. The point man walked back over to the extractor.

Dom kept his voice low, "Are you sure about this?"

"This isn't about what's best for me; it's about what's best for her. You know what to expect, I don't."

"She's having your child; don't you think you should stay with her?"

"And you've got two children to protect in London; both of us have reasons not to do this."

Eames walked up and thrust a gun into Arthur's hands, "I however, have nothing to live for except myself, so, darling, let's do this."

The pair generally traded weapons until both men were fully stocked. Before they left, Cobb handed Arthur his favorite pistol, a simple two shot that was easily concealed, "For Isabella."

Arthur nodded and took off his jacket, rolling up his sleeves as he tossed the pressed coat onto a nearby table. Such a small gun was easily concealed when strapped close to his knee.

One last time, the point man stole a kiss from the architect while the forger sighed.

* * *

The heavy metal door clicked shut behind them, and Eames looked at his teammate, "They're up on the main level."

"Right."

"You open the top door; I'm going to lay down cover fire. We move out into the main room and secure this door behind us."

"Alright."

The forger brought up his gun to eye level and aimed at where he supposed they might be. Arthur carefully approached the last security panel and typed in the access code. With his free hand, he held the 9mm he carried up by his head, at the ready.

Leaning his full force into the door, he kicked it open, but hadn't expected to score a hit with the large metal frame itself.

Marcus had been pacing the warehouse, waiting for instructions from Cobol when the door hit him in the back and knocked him forward.

The hitman went down on his knees, but quickly rolled over on his back, "Isabella!"

She came sprinting from the otherside of the warehouse, pistol in hand, firing indiscriminate shots toward the pair.

Eames raised his uzi and fired back, cutting the air with sharp bursts of gunfire.

He succeeded in scaring the hitwoman into backing off, as Isabella tossed herself down to the ground behind a stack of boxes. It was an undignified exit that she regretted. The focus off him, Marcus scrambled to hide himself with his co-worker.

Taking safety behind the forger, Arthur shut the primary safehouse door and sealed it. With Eames still firing, the pair backed up as fast as they could, taking refuge behind some warehouse boxes.

The shell cases clinking on the floor was one of the last few sounds still lingering in the building. A faint scent of the gunsmoke heat hung over them as the warehouse lay silenced for a moment.

On opposite sides of the room, each pair waited with baited breath, wondering who was going to break the tension first.

Eames turned to Arthur, "What's in these boxes?"

"Spare parts, office supplies I guess."

"Will they withstand the bullets?"

"For awhile."

"Let's go then." Eames peeked up over the cover from his crouched position and quickly pulled his head down, "Nothing."

He casually set his gun atop one of the boxes and fired a few shots. The response was almost instant and he pulled the gun back.

"Across from us, but a little to the left, or at least, one of them is."

Arthur was thinking carefully, "Did you see how much they brought?"

"They're not carrying a lot of extra cartridges from what I could tell."

"Neither are we though."

"I don't think they were expecting us to come out and challenge them."

"Good." Arthur tentatively looked out and ducked back when a shot rang out and clipped the side of the box, "Damnit, they've already got a lock on us."

"Probably Isabella, she's the better shot from what I hear."

"Isabella?" Arthur finally began to process the name in his mind, he had heard of her before.

A Cobol extractor who suffered the runner-up fate to going into permanent limbo. Like Mal, she delved into a state of altered reality where she couldn't draw the line between the real world and dreams.

She was unredeemable at this point, but that didn't bother him, he didn't intend on her walking away from this warehouse.

Eames laid down another volley of fire and the point man took another look at the boxes across the room, "Right there." He indicated to Eames their locations and the forger unloaded the rest of his clip at the area he was directed to.

Arthur sat down with his back to the boxes and wait for Eames to return to crouching position, "Did you have to waste those bullets?"

"No, I had to see if those boxes were bulletproof."

* * *

Ariadne was leaning forward over the nearby table, "That was the worst one so far."

"They're going to continue to get stronger."

"That's reassuring." She took advantage of the brief respite to simply breathe, an activity which she had found more and more difficult.

Cobb began counting time and she watched him. It was a painstaking process, the seconds dragged on considerably while she kept fidgeting in her chair; trying to achieve a more comfortable position.

Something in her wanted to walk, and with trembling legs, she forced herself up from the table. The extractor didn't let her stand by herself for long and came to stand next to her, allowing her to hold onto him. With careful steps, she began to move around the room. Her body was changing, she could feel it, and something about the slow, steady motion was helping at the moment.

Dom kept his eyes on his watch.

Without warning, she suddenly grabbed onto his shirt sleeves and bent forward. Her nails made indents into the fabric. Her brought his arms around and put them under hers, grasping her elbows.

"It's okay, keeping breathing."

She did so, but it provided little comfort. When the pain finally passed, she looked up at him and glanced at the watch, "Five minutes."

There was something akin to disbelief in her eyes, "First babies aren't supposed to come this fast! I'm supposed to be in the hospital for 48 hours with an epidural before they finally show up!"

He didn't seem convinced, "Maybe it's a result of all the stress you've been through. Your body might think it needs to get through this fast."

"Not helping, Cobb!" She actually snapped at him, but he held his tongue.

For one moment when he looked into her fearful eyes, he saw Mal, back when they were young and he was walking with her during her labor. Dom shook his head.

Ariadne changed her mind after a few minutes, "I need to lie down."

Dom helped her to sit down on the floor. In a moment of brilliance a few years ago, when they had been building the safe house, Arthur had insisted up carpeting as a mean of dulling the echoing sound of footsteps. It was an immense benefit at this moment.

Grabbing Arthur's coat, Dom rolled up the jacket and put it under Ariadne's head.

"Arthur's going to be mad at you for wrinkling his jacket."

Cobb smirked, "Probably, but I think he'll get over it."

Ariadne wanted to ask more questions, about Arthur, his skill with hand to hand combat or a gun; his chances against Isabella.

He got back on his feet, "I'm going to see what we have for medical supplies."

Dom had no interest in trying to answer those questions right now. Arthur did the statistics.

* * *

"Stop shooting!" Hissed Arthur.

"Why?"

"Because we're down to our last clip and it's not like we can just walk back downstairs and get more."

The forger chose to ignore the warning and kept watching over the edge of the box.

He caught sight of something very interesting to him, and he shot with reckless abandon at it.

Marcus hit the ground behind the set of boxes. The forger had managed to clip the first hitman after a firefight that neither of them could guess at how long they had been at it.

The satisfaction of the score didn't last long for Eames though, as Isabella took advantage of his momentary lapse to shoot back at him.

* * *

Isabella reached over and dragged Marcus back from the open areas between the cover they were hidden behind.

She flipped him over, "Fuck." It came out as a hurried whisper. Blood was seeping out from a wound just below his ribcage, towards the right side of his body. Even as a singular injury, it was devastating.

"How bad is it?"

"Probably hit something vital."

Marcus groaned and let his head fall back, "How long?"

"Not much longer, you're bleeding pretty fast."

Reaching into his coat pocket, he grabbed out his remaining ammo, what little he had left and handed them over to her.

"We have less than I thought."

"Yeah, well, weren't exactly expecting this."

"Take care," She patted his shoulder and returned to her position; "I think I got that one."

* * *

Eames dropped his Uzi on the ground next to him, holding his arm.

Arthur, leaned over, his gun still at the ready, "She got you."

"Yeah, right in my bloody shooting arm."

"Broke?"

"No, she only clipped skin; of course it's broke, Arthur!"

The point man reached forward and ripped off the sleeve on Eames' undamaged arm. The forger was confused at first, but quickly understood when the cloth was used to bandage his arm. Broken though it was, it didn't dangly grotesquely. Blood was everywhere, and the heavy copper smell mixed with gun powder in the air.

"I think you got one of them."

"It was the man; I think I got the bastard right in the stomach."

Arthur, busied with the first aid, wasn't paying attention and another few shots peppered the air, forcing him to practically throw himself to the ground.

During a brief stall, he jumped up and fired several shots back, before hiding again.

It was then, that Arthur heard a sound he'd been desperate to hear since the fight began.

The click of a jammed gun on the other side of the room.

A few angry whispers accompanied it and his suspicions were confirmed. A quick peek showed him where she was, fighting with her pistol. He stood up, gun trained on her, "Get up."

Isabella looked at him, "You going to shoot an unarmed person?"

"I'm sure you've got something hidden on you."

"Like you don't."

"I probably do." Arthur took a few steps toward her and motioned toward her gun with his own, "Throw it."

She put up her hands, "Fine," but she made no move to get rid of the weapon.

"Where's your partner?"

"Bleeding out somewhere, yours?"

"He'll live."

The pair regarded one another for a moment.

Isabella struck first; she flung the pistol directly at Arthur's face as she dove to the side of the room. While the point man managed to avoid the blow, the weapon struck his hands and he lost his grip on his gun. It went sliding across the room.

When he was disarmed, she jumped up and charged him, landing a kick directly to his stomach. The point man landed hard back against a pile of boxes. He saw a flurry of lights when she landed another kick to his ribs while he was down.

The third kick, he caught her foot and twisted her leg. Isabella lost her balance and fell to the ground.

Arthur got to his feet while she scrambled back, but he came right after her. He dived on top of her, pressing her stomach to the ground and trying hard to get her hands behind her back.

Isabella was no small girl however, she was trained, and she rolled to the side, throwing Arthur. This time, he role away from her, getting back on his feet. She stood back up as well.

Breathing hard, the hitwoman saw no point in stopping and she attacked with her fists this time. She decked him on his jaw, but he responded quickly and got her in the ribs.

From his place behind the boxes, Eames watched the fight, "Bob and weave, darling."

Used to the forger's offhanded idiocy, it didn't bother Arthur, but it caught Isabella's attention and for a brief moment, she was distracted.

The next punch hit her square in the jaw as she'd done to him. It fairly dropped the hitwoman to the ground.

Arthur was not about to fight unfairly, he backed up from her range and allowed her to pick herself up and little. She was rubbing her already bruising jaw, and he smirked.

"Don't laugh, pretty boy, you should see how you look."

"I've been worse."

"Better be careful, she might not want someone who looks like a patch of rough road."

"Leave her out of this."

Isabella pulled back her fist and aimed in, and Arthur was ready to block, but she pulled the strangest move on him. Allowing him to grab her incoming fist, she used the force moving forward and put her foot into the side of his knee.

To save himself from injury, he was forced to collapse his knee and fall to the ground. Once down, she spit the blood from a loosen tooth into his eyes.

Throwing her full weight onto his back, she held him for a moment with sheer body weight while he tried to clear himself of his blindness.

She retrieved a small rope from her jacket pocket and laced it around his neck with the skill of a professional assassin. With his airway compromised, Arthur bucked upwards and got to his knees, both of his hands grasping at the thin white cord.

He coughed and sputtered; she just pulled harder.

Leaning in close, she could not resist the urge to taunt to him in these final moments, "Do you want to know why I scared her so badly?"

Her lips were brushing his ear, "I told her, that the next time I see her, I would take that baby away from her and raise it to be just like me. Even if I have to cut it out of her."

The last part enraged Arthur, but he was far too panicked to contemplate it for long.

Cut.

Back when he'd had hold of her boot, he'd felt something in her shoe.

Allowing himself one hand to be free, he sacrificed a small amount of oxygen to reach back to her leather boots. At the very top of one, there was the handle of a knife.

He yanked upward, freeing the weapon from the sheath she'd hidden it in. Twisting his shoulder as best he could, he flipped the knife so that the blade pointed upward.

Arthur then threw himself forward against her rope, tossing Isabella off-balance. She stepped forward and he thrust the knife up.

Instantly, the tightness of the cord was eased, it went slack and fell to the ground.

His hands let go of the weapon, unable to turn around and still hold it. It didn't clatter to the ground.

Isabella looked entirely surprised. She took a few steps back, the black, leather wrapped handle protruding out from her lower stomach.

Reaching down, she touched the handle in disbelief before bringing her hands back up, covered with bright red blood.

"You son of a bitch." She hissed at him, stumbling back.

Isabella reeled, looking around the room. Her eyes fell on Arthur's gun, where it lay across the room. In her disorientation, she made for the weapon as a last ditch effort.

Arthur quickly reached to the holster he kept on his own leg and drew out the gun. He fired two shots, all the little gun held. The first one struck her in the back; the second hit her in the front when the first shot spun her around.

Isabella fell back to the ground and the point man marched up to her. Their scuffle had ripped her overcoat and only now did he see her flack jacket.

Neither bullet had hit home in the two shot he had designed to quickly snuff out her life.

She looked up at him, "Is that all you've got?"

"It was your choice to wear that vest, I've guess you've got no choice but to bleed out like your partner there." Arthur gestured toward the side of the room.

Eames, still holding his bandaged and broken arm, walked around the side and picked up the gun.

The forger crossed the room to where the heavily injured Marcus was on his last breath. He put a bullet between his eyes.

Walking back to the main area, Eames attempted to shoot the gun into the air, but it clicked.

He looked over at Isabella, "Out of bullets, sorry love."

She rolled her eyes, still holding her bleeding stomach wound.

Eames looked at the point man, who was simply standing there staring at the hitwoman, "I'll keep an eye on her, you need to get back downstairs."

"Right." Arthur turned and ran for the door, entering the first access code.

As he disappeared into the basement of the safehouse, Eames sat down on a box near to Isabella, "Alright, now, I'm not priest, but I'll hear a last confession if you have one."

She looked at him as if he wasn't speaking her language any longer.

"Anyway, I'd appreciate an apology for this arm if you don't mind."


	16. A New Hello, Part 1 of 2

Chapter 16: A New Hello, Part 1 of 2

A/N: Just part 2 and an epilogue left! Review, please! If you don't review, I get depressed and I don't write, because I assume no one is reading. And after that guilt trip, here's the new chapter!

* * *

At any other point in time, Ariadne would've have been entirely embarrassed to have Dom see her in such a state.

As it was, she was in too much pain to care.

She had lost track of time long ago, but he had been keeping watch. The more minutes and seconds ticked away on the clock, the worse the extractor felt about Arthur and Eames' chances of coming back to them.

The two hitmen were some of Cobol's most devious, a fact which Dom chose to keep to himself.

Frankly, the architect had been too busy crying to ask him where Arthur was.

Dom had searched the entire safe-house, but hadn't found the advanced medical supplies that he'd been hoping for. The first aid kit had the basics, maybe a few more tools and the equipment for stitching up bullet wounds, but nothing to assist in a birth.

The extractor helped in any way he could remember, "I think you're almost there."

Ariadne had propped herself up on her elbows, but she allowed her head to hang back, "How?"

"I don't know exactly, all Mal said was that she knew when it was time to push."

The architect suddenly reached forward, her fingers opening and closing tightly. Dom stared for a moment before he extended his hand to her, and she grabbed onto him.

Instantly, the heat and strength in her grasp practically crushed his fingers.

"Breathe."

She exhaled slowly, "I am!"

Her grip got even tighter, and she gasped. A little whimper of pain escaped her lips and Dom attempted to hold her hand in solidarity instead of just allowing his bones to be crushed. She pulled against him, holding her body up.

When it was over, she let her weight fall back onto her elbows, tucking her chin to her chest.

"You should lie back fully between contractions, get some rest."

"Rest?" Her eyes opened slowly, peering up at him, "What rest? They're like every couple of –"

But she was cut off when another pain called her attention away. Still holding onto Cobb's hand, he felt her nails dig into the flesh of his palm. He had to clench his jaw to avoid saying anything.

Besides the strong tightening in her stomach, the architect felt another strange sensation. Fearfully, she forced her eyes open and looked at the extractor, who, seeing her panicked expression, looked down at her.

"What's wrong?"

He sighed in relief and gave her a very weak smile, "It's okay, I think your water just broke."

"Doesn't that happen earlier?" She ground out the words.

"You watch too many movies."

"Not funny!" Her last comment was punctuated by what Dom could only describe as a sort of gasped squeal. A combination of shock, fear, and pain.

"Something's wrong!"

With his very tentative free hand, Cobb placed his hand right under her stomach and waited. Back when it had been him and Mal, the doctor had pulled him, a frightened young father, over to be with his wife. He had set his hand on her lower abdomen, and felt the child inside move to ready itself for the birth.

Never in his life would he mistake that feeling, and he knew exactly what Ariadne must be afraid of.

"The baby's moving down."

"What?"

"I remember this, it's the baby is moving into the best position."

"Dom, I – " Her hand was clammy.

He wanted to be able to tell her anything other than to 'relax,' or 'breathe.' So he waited out the moment and then squeezed her hand back

"I – I'm not ready."

"Don't have much choice now."

"Where's Arthur?"

The extractor shrugged, trying to be nonchalant, "He's not back yet."

"Eames?"

"Both of them are still up there."

The look on her face instantly tipped him off that he'd made a mistake, "I'm sure everything's okay."

Ariadne leaned back, running her hands through her hair. The long brunette locks pooled around her on the floor. It was a peace that would only last a moment.

She suddenly found her arms wrapped around her stomach as a strong tension laid into her. Her back arched involuntarily and she cried out. This one lasted longer than usual, it sent shockwaves through her body and she wondered if the clamping down of her muscles could actually hurt the baby.

When it finally ended, she looked up at the ceiling, her breathing coming in small, restrained breaths. The gray concrete looked so far away.

She was determined to make the best of this downtime, her eyes closed and she listened to her body. Ariadne could feel the shifts in lower body, the change in her muscles, the bones. It was a strange sensation, motions that she could not control. In the dream world, she could move staircases, buildings, and entire streets, but now she felt like the dreamer at the mercy of another architect.

A sense of urgency grabbed her as she understood exactly what was coming next. Her eyes snapped open and she lifted herself back up on her elbows, "I think it's time."

Cobb looked at her and nodded, "Alright. You push and I'll give you a ten count."

Steeling herself, she took a deep breath right before the next contraction hit, and bore down. Somewhere far away, she could hear the slow, rhythmic counting of Dom's voice.

"…8…9…10."

"Oh god!" In a rushed breath out, she let her head rest on her shoulder. The sheer force hit her and she hadn't expected it to be so much.

Seeing the shock in her eyes, Dom assured her, "That was good, are you ready to try again?"

"Just a – Just a moment." But she wouldn't get one. The next one hit and she had to push with it, her body demanded it of her.

The extractor counted, this time keeping his eyes directly on her face instead. When the count finally ended, her arms nearly folded under the stress and she gasped.

"You have to remember to breathe between counts!"

"I'm trying! I've never done this before!" She whimpered. Beads of sweat formed at her temples, and a few ran down her neck.

"If you don't breathe, you'll tire yourself out."

"You don't know the first thing about tired!" Ariadne snapped at him, but her eyes betrayed a deep fear.

Before Dom could try to reassure her again though, she sucked in the oxygen that she could and her fingers dug into the carpeted ground. With her eyes tightly closed, she pushed through a stinging and burning pain that was taking over her body. She could hear Dom counting, but his voice faltered halfway through.

She was sure that she'd pushed for an eleven or twelve count because of that; and she was ready to tell him off even before she was finished.

After the last count, she allowed herself to fall backwards slightly, trying to preserve her arm strength. She didn't fall back very far before she bumped into something.

A pair of hands grabbed her shoulders and held her up. Opening her eyes slowly, she looked up and saw what had made Dom falter in his counting.

Arthur looked down at her. On his knees, he was behind her, pulling her back to rest against his chest.

"Arthur?"

"Hey Ari." He leaned down at and kissed her forehead.

"Where's Eames?" Asked Dom.

"Watching Isabella die."

The extractor wanted to ask more, but Ariadne suddenly sat up in the grips of her latest pains, and Dom went back to assisting her.

Arthur leaned in, and grabbed her hands from where they had been holding onto the carpet fibers. The vise grip that she leveled on his hands was worth the pain that it caused him. With her back now supported, she could put more effort into her pushes.

After a ten count, she fell back against him, breathing hard. If he felt any lingering resentment toward her for hiding her condition from him, the point man wouldn't have known it. He was fairly lost in her face. The strength that was in her half-lidded eyes, her measured breathing through slightly parted lips, and cheeks with bright red spots of exhaustion on them captured him. As she rested, he pulled back some strands of her hair from where they had fallen in her face.

"I don't know if I can."

"You can." He whispered into her ear.

"Another one." She sat up as best she could and bore down.

This time, when Dom counted, he didn't give her the cue to relax, "Keep going, keep going if you can, Ari."

The architect heeded his advice and gave it her all, crushing Arthur's hands in the process. Cobb kept looking back at Ari's face and then down, and finally he put up his hands, "Alright, stop."

"What the hell was that for?" Her voice was raspy and exhausted.

"Head's down."

"I thought you said it was already down."

"Different type of 'down.' On the next one, go as hard as you can, as long as you can."

Looking back at Arthur for a minute, he imagined that she was trying to say something to him, but she never got the chance.

The following contraction was so intense that she shrieked at its onset, "It hurts!"

"Work through it Ari, keep pushing!"

Gritting her teeth, the architect, renewed her grasp on Arthur's hands and forced her muscles to do what she bid them to with every ounce of strength she had.

Time seemed to stretch out forever before her, no counting; no signs up letting up. A single bead of sweat ran on the outside of her right temple and provided an odd cooling sensation. Forcing her eyes open a bit, she could see Dom straight ahead of her. Something in his expression seemed more urgent now.

Her focus wasn't its best, but she saw him reach down and when his hand came back up, she saw bright red on it.

It terrified her, it spurred her forward. Her fears began to break down. There was no other way out of her current state except to fight for it, and she'd come this far.

At the very end of her effort, she felt an immense pressure and it forced a yelp from her throat.

Dom looked up at them, "Head's out."

"Seriously?"

The extractor nodded, "One more good push ought to do it."

Arthur leaned forward and looked while Ariadne grabbed the last few seconds of respite that she could get. The point man sat back on his heels with a strange expression on his face and she looked at him, "What's wrong."

"Nothing. It's just, strange."

She had little time to mull over his comment before she found herself at the beginning of the end. Ariadne leaned back fully into Arthur, and he held onto her.

"Listen to me, okay, Ari? You can do this."

Chin tucked into her chest, she pushed for the final time. It felt as though her body would break in two, she couldn't help the cries of pain that issued from her lips. Arthur held onto her, unsure of what to do to help her and settling on trying to be supportive.

In an instant, it was all over. The pressure disappeared and the pain dulled. She collapsed back onto her lover, finally releasing his sore hands.

For a minute, everything was silent in the safehouse. Dom, kneeling in front of her, held up the infant.

No one talked, until after a bit, the baby finally took in its first breath and let out its first loud cry.

Ariadne breathed a sigh of relief.

Dom quickly set the child on her chest and with trembling hands; she clutched the tiny creature to her, "Oh my god."

Arthur rested his chin on her shoulder and stared down at their baby.

For a moment, the extractor stood back and looked at them, and he mused that they looked the opposite of what he'd expected. The architect looked confused and almost frightened of the baby, while the point man was sporting a contented smile as he extended a bruised finger to touch the child's cheek.

She suddenly drew in and choked out a sob, but was unwilling to relinquish even one hand to clasp it over her mouth.

Arthur turned his head slightly and kissed her on her temple, regardless of her sweated skin and wet hair.

With a halted voice, she whispered to the point man, "It's a boy."

He gave that classic wide grin that she'd come to know and love, "He's beautiful."

Dom went to the first aid kit and pulled out the emergency blanket, thin though it was. He handed it to Arthur. Finally able to move herself more easily, Ari shifted and Arthur helped her to fully lie down upon the floor. Taking the thin, crisp white blanket, the point man picked up his son from the architect's arms and wrapped the squalling child in it as best he could. Dom lent his friend his pocket knife to cut the cord.

Arthur sat next to her as she ran her hands through her hair and let her body rest finally. Neither of them could scarcely believe that this moment was real.

"He needs a name." Arthur commented, rocking the baby in his arms. Ari wondered if he'd ever be able to take his eyes off the little one.

"I know." She sighed, staring back at the same ceiling as before. It still seemed far away from her, but as she looked at it, the room felt as though it were moving, the lights seemed to dim.

With her eyes squinted, she tried desperately to focus on something, but couldn't.

"Ari? Ari, what's wrong?" She heard Arthur calling to her as the room went black.


	17. A New Hello, Part 2 of 2

Chapter 17: A New Hello, Part 2 of 2

A/N: I would like to apologize for this being so late, I had a bit of an upheaval at my job and nothing kills your creativity faster than having your employment put in jeopardy. Thankfully, I'm still employed, so here's the last chapter, epilogue to follow!

Bit of a warning, epilogue is for mature readers… *wink*

* * *

Her eyes opened slowly, and closed quickly. The lids fluttered back up again.

The ceiling was white, not gray like before. The room was warm, she felt comfortable and her pain was numbed.

In her confusion, the first thing that came to her mind was the question of whether or not she had died back in that safehouse. It had certainly felt like it.

She willed her hands to move, and they slid inward across a rough but thick fabric. When they came to rest where the swell in her stomach usually was, Ariadne's breath caught in her throat. It was true that there was still a part of her that was raised and obvious to her former condition, but it had decreased.

With both hands, she pressed the skin slightly, trying to feel for something, anything. It was almost as if she couldn't believe her own memories.

There were the images of bright red blood, the dull stinging of pain that her muscles remembered, and the ache of fatigue in her bones. Arthur's face came to her mind, and then the face of someone who vaguely resembled the point man, but it was blurred in her mind's eye.

"Well, look who's awake." A voice came from the side of the room. An older, fatherly voice that she had hard numerous times before.

"Professor Miles?"

"Hello Ariadne."

"What're you doing here?"

"I was already in Paris after I heard the children were alright, I wanted to make sure that you were fine." She turned and saw Miles, who had now pulled his chair to the side of the bed, "Then I show up and find out that my student is not only out of danger, but that she had a baby too!" He chuckled.

Seeing his face, the warm smile on a face that was lined with age, she suddenly felt better about her current surroundings.

Miles shook his head, "You and Arthur. I guess I can see that."

"Where am I?"

"You're in a hospital."

Before he could go further, she interrupted, "Where's Arthur? Where's my baby?"

Miles put his hand on her shoulder, gently encouraging her not to sit up so quickly, "They're both fine, it's alright."

"Where?" Her eyes darted around the room, as if they might have been hiding in the corner.

"Out in the hall. Those two trackers finally showed up and I believe that Arthur is playing the role of the proud father at the moment."

She looked at him with a quizzical look on her face, and he winked, "He's showing off the baby, something that all new fathers do."

Ariadne sighed, brushing back her hair from her face. The IV cord extending from the back of her hand called her attention to her wristband. She read it and a smiled played on her lips. It very clearly identified who she was, and attached her to as of yet unnamed infant male.

"How do you feel?"

"Like I got hit by a truck." She exhaled slowly, "Why am I here? How long have I been out?"

"Arthur says that the doctors told him that you lost a lot of blood and passed out from stress and exhaustion. You've been unconscious for a few hours."

"And the baby?"

"Looks like any other happy, healthy baby I've seen. All red with big cheeks and bright eyes." Miles grinned and so did she, taking more and more comfort in the calm air her professor provided.

"Thank god."

Miles patted her hand and looked at her, "Look Ariadne, I wanted to apologize for getting you into this whole mess with Cobol. I can't help but feel that some of this is my fault."

"Because you introduced me to Cobb?"

"In a way, yes."

"But that's how I met Arthur."

The professor gave her a rather sympathetic smile, "I guess you're right, but allow an old man to feel bad that he put a student and a child in danger."

"Does this mean I get an automatic pass for the semester?"

"Not with all the time off you'll need to take care of that new baby."

"Ha." It was less a laugh of sarcasm and more a sigh of relief.

Suddenly, she sat straight up in bed and shocked the professor, "What about my parents? They've been worried sick for seven months!"

"It's okay, Ariadne. Arthur already called them; they're probably in the air right now."

"They are; they'll be here in a few hours."

The architect turned toward the door. Standing on the now open frame, was the point man. He was slightly leaned up against the side, a small bundle in a blue and white blanket in his arms.

"Arthur." Her voice was soft; she extended a hand toward him.

He strode up to her and took her hand in his hand. Miles got up from his chair and nodded at the two of them, silently leaving the room. The door clicked behind him.

Arthur never bothered with the vacant seat left by his partner's father in law; he sat down on the edge of her bed. With great care, he transferred the baby into his mothers' arms.

She hadn't ever been so afraid to hold something in her life; all she could think about was how relaxed he had looked with their child.

Then she looked down.

The tiny infant was sleeping, however lightly, swaddled by the nursing staff. He was so impossibly small; she couldn't tear her eyes away from him if she'd wanted to.

"He looks just like you." Her words were little more than a whisper.

"Wait until he opens his eyes. They're yours." The point man reached over and touched the child's cheek.

Ariadne tried to hold the baby as close to her as she could without holding him too tightly. It was a frustrating guessing game. After all that she'd been through, she never wanted to let the child out of her sight again, "Did you think of a name?"

Arthur mused a moment, "I did have one. Didn't you think of any?"

She looked at the tiny face, with its small pursed lips, small nose, and full head of brown wispy hair, "At the beginning, I did, but after I ran into Isabella…. I began to wonder if I would get to meet him." Her fingers smoothed back his hair, "Naming him, fell by the wayside."

"What about Alexander?"

"Alexander." The architect finally allowed herself to look up at her lover, now the father of her child, and then back down, "I like it."

Silence took over for a few minutes before the architect suddenly gave a very light laugh, trying desperately not to wake her son.

"What's so funny?"

"I just – I still can't believe that you punched Eames."

Arthur sighed, "He deserved it, and it was a long time coming."

She smiled at him, and the point man stared back at her. He'd always thought she was beautiful, and now, with her hair mussed, and her face tired, she was gorgeous to him, "Are we alright, Ari?"

"Arthur, I didn't run because I was worried that you couldn't protect me. I was scared that they would kill you. Then they threatened to take the baby and I just thought it would be better if I kept running." She paused, biting her lower lip, "I wanted to make sure that Alexander still had a father when he was born."

The point man had a smile on his face, the same kind of irresistible curve in his lips that had gotten her into all this trouble in the first place.

"We never talked about having kids."

"That's true."

"You don't seem upset."

"Why would I be?"

Ariadne had only had a little bit of time to consider how he would feel about being a father, but nothing about his actions told her that he was at all upset with the situation. Perhaps he'd also remembered what they'd forgotten that night.

Arthur reached forward and took her chin in his hand, tilting her head upward so that he could kiss her.

The shift that occurred when the point man leaned in to embrace his lover finally woke Alexander from his fitful sleep. When they broke apart, Ariadne was able to look her son's eyes, carbon copies of her own. For a moment, the world fell away from her as both mother and child regarded one another.

"Hello Alexander."

Arthur extended a finger towards his son's hand and the tiny digits curled around his own. An unexpected family, but a family none the less.

"What about Cobol?"

It took him by surprise, "I don't know. Cobb and I will have to negotiate with them."

"You don't actually have to go meet with them, do you?"

"No, video conference will do. Odds are in our favor since we killed their best hitmen; they'll probably offer a payoff just to close all the old business."

She nodded, releasing a tentatively held breath, "I just want to make sure that they don't come after him."

"Well, if Dom and I can't come up with all the money, I'm sure that Saito will help to keep his best team intact. Or, he might send his own team to kill the heads of Cobol, whatever is neater."

Ariadne smiled very softly at him, "I love you."

"I love you too."

Another kiss followed, but Arthur soon found himself hanging when she pulled back, "This is going to be hell to explain to my parents."


	18. Epilogue: Plans for Next Year

Epilogue: Plans for Next Year

A/N: Final piece. Thank you to everyone who reviewed and kept me writing on this! To the two OP's from the Kink_meme, I hope this is what you wanted!

This chapter is for all audiences. If you want to proceed to the next chapter, you will find the additional rated M material! Technically, they are supposed to be together, but I know some people don't want to read it, so I tried to be nice and cut it.

* * *

Her parents hadn't taken the news well.

At first.

Ariadne hadn't wanted to spring everything on them at once, so she had sent Arthur away for a bit while her parents visited her in the hospital room. She explained how the hitmen from Cobol had been chasing her, and that she was now safe.

Arthur had insisted on returning to reveal the news that he had not only been seeing their daughter, but had put her into the compromised condition of being a target.

Her father had all but insisted that he wanted to physically demonstrate his displeasure with the point man, but Ariadne insisted that it hadn't been Arthur's fault, and since neither wanted to heap blame onto Cobb, they called it a side effect of the business.

After that wound had been forgiven, she struggled for a moment or two before the revelation to her parents that the taller, thin gentleman with the pressed suits and air of control about him was the father of their first, and only, grandchild; whom they hadn't even been aware of until that moment.

Neither of the new parents got the reaction they'd been expecting. Both Ariadne's mother and father simply looked at each other as if to say, _"Well, they did seem like a match."_

Then, her mother had demanded to see the new grandson and Arthur went to retrieve the baby from where he had been waiting with Dom and Eames. The point man was not enthusiastic about the forger holding his child unless the more experienced Cobb was nearby.

Truthfully, Eames wasn't so much interested in the child in its present state, but he was contemplating the various things he could teach the boy that would upset the point man later on.

Once the infant, now crying lightly, was delivered into his grandparents' arms, any and all injury was forgiven.

Arthur's family had been out of his life for many years, for reasons he never discussed with anyone, except Ari, and he was glad that the child would get to have at least one pair of grandparents.

* * *

(3 Years Later)

"You know something, Arthur? He's just like you, only smarter and infinitely more interesting." Eames picked up the small child from where he'd been playing with Lego blocks on the floor. The boy squealed with laughter.

"Thank you, Eames." Arthur barely looked up from his latest research project, and retorted offhandedly, "I'll take solace in the fact that my son is now, and will always be, smarter than you as well."

With the child thrown brilliantly over his shoulder, the Brit walked over to his desk where the Russian tracker sat with his feet up. Alexi had stayed behind at Eames' request, and while Yurika had joined them for awhile, she had left to attend to business back in Osaka. Namely, a job to replace Mr. Takayama as a security agent for Saito.

The Russian had taken it as a measure of great personal pride that the little boy bore a very similar name to his own. When Arthur thought on it later, he realized that in some measure, it was to thank the man for all that he'd done and sacrificed.

Alexi pried a block from the boy's tiny hands, "What is this?"

Alexander giggled, holding his hands in front of his face.

"You took this from your mother, didn't you?"

He nodded; his grin still wide.

Alexi stood up, "Ariadne, I believe I found the missing piece of your model."

There was the sound of soft bang underneath the desk in the corner and the architect appeared, lightly rubbing her head, "Alex took off with it again?"

"He is very determined."

She caught the block as he tossed it to her and replaced it in the pattern, "Thank you."

Arthur was smiling without ever looking up.

Dom came back upstairs, looking at his teammates, "Are we ready to go?"

"Well, we are mate, but mommy and daddy over there are trying to get some work done before the big bash."

"Arthur," Cobb looked puzzled, "It's New Year's Eve!"

"I know, I know."

"C'mon, Phillipa and James are in the car. We'll drop them and Alexander off with Miles and then head to the party."

"I love the company get-togethers around here, Saito throws the best parties." Commented Alexi, and Eames handed over the boy to his father.

The small group locked up their office and headed down stairs to the waiting car.

"Alexander, you're going to be good for Mr. Miles, right?"

"Yes." But the little boy had a coy smile that betrayed his real intentions.

"Alexander?" Arthur pressed.

"I'll be good."

"That's my boy." Ariadne pulled down the hem of shirt where it had begun to roll up, "I know you'll be on your best behavior."

"I'm sure James will help keep an eye on him." Cobb ruffled his son's hair.

"Dad! I'm not the babysitter!"

"You should keep an eye on him, James, we all know you're responsible." Yusuf smirked from the front of the car, "Or I'll be keeping an eye on you."

The chemist leaned in a bit towards the little boy, who noticed the patch where the eye had once been. Grinning, Yusuf set back a bit and James smiled at him, well aware that the threat was only imaginary.

After a short detour, the party dropped off the underage passengers with their caregivers for the night and continued on to Saito's holiday festivities.

The business man greeted them like the old friends they were. He dutifully looked at the photos the various children and then, when he was bored of that, he plied the group with alcohol and left to mingle, his newest mistress on his arm.

Eames found it to be amusing as hell.

Arthur led his lover out onto the dance floor, small though it was. Saito always did invite more people than he had room for.

Some part of Ariadne would always wonder exactly who had raised Arthur, and what they had taught him. Despite the fact that Arthur never seemed to want to see them again, they had certainly instructed him in everything from proper dress to dancing.

They didn't have much room to move, but he made the best of it. In fact, compared with the rest of the crowd, they were far too formal.

It still made her blush that he could never fully blend into the crowd, and held her on the outskirts with him. There was something comforting in that fact that it was just the two of them.

Hours later, after the champagne corks had popped and enough had been spilled on the floor between the midnight kisses and the slightly drunken dancing, the party began to break up. Unfortunately, for the couple, they had missed that celebrated tradition of the first embrace at 12:01am. A rowdy Eames and Alexi, their arms around one another, had hoisted a glass and spilled its contents all over Ariadne's shoes. Being the gentlemen he was, the point man had gone to get a towel to help her, and by the time he'd returned, they had both forgotten it.

Now, well past 1 am, they got into the hired car Saito had sent, along with Cobb, and rode back to the professor's house. Eames, Alexi, and Yusuf stayed behind, unwilling to end the night just yet.

At the Miles' house, the three adults discovered their children, tuckered out and asleep on the large plush couch.

Arthur lifted the limp body of his son from the couch and the child barely stirred, "Daddy?"

"It's okay, Alexander, go back to sleep."

The child's hair fell over his eyes, the soft brown curls were beyond control and Ariadne worried that she would have trouble trying to comb it out tomorrow.

Cobb stayed behind, but the other three continued on to their final destination of the night, a comfortable home in the adjacent neighborhood. While the parents would have infinitely preferred an apartment with a skyline view, the child begged a yard to play in.

Arthur locked the door behind them as Ariadne took Alexander to his room and laid him in his bed, pulling the covers up over him. She brushed back his hair and kissed his forehead, but the little boy didn't respond; he merely rolled over in his bed and sighed without waking.

She smiled and got up, walking carefully out of the room into the hall. He'd been sleeping through the night for awhile now, and she had no doubt that he was already dreaming.

There was some comfort in that he could still dream in the traditional sense, and for that, she was grateful.


	19. Ep: Plans for Next Year P2 Rated M

Epilogue: Plans for Next Year (RATED M Section)

A/N: This piece picks up where the last one left off! Pure M! Have fun! I enjoy constructive criticism on my more adult work! Reviews are loved and welcomed!

* * *

Ariadne walked back out into the main room, her purse tossed absentmindedly onto the counter. Moonlight streamed in through the large kitchen windows.

She and Arthur had compromised on that feature. He was adverse to wide windows, and she remembered them from her childhood, overlooking the vast forests. Windows had won out.

Even in the dulled light, her jewelry still glittered as she reached for a glass in the kitchen and got herself a drink. Normally, she wasn't up this late in the evening since Alexander had been born, but she was still very much awake even at this hour.

As she drank, she looked around and then addressed him, "Arthur? Why didn't you turn on the lights?"

The glass was taken from her hand and set down on the counter. Warm breath caressed the back of her neck and she felt the clasp on her haltered dress come loose. Feeling the two gathered pieces of fabric begin to slide down, she grabbed onto them in a moment of modesty and held them up, "Arthur?"

She turned around and faced him, his eyes reflecting in the moonlight. He took a step forward, trapping her against the counter. Deliberately, he grabbed her hands and entwined her fingers with his.

The top of her dress fell down to her waist, the rough texture of his jacket brushed against her bare chest. When he pressed in for a kiss, she found herself forced to respond by virtue of brisk air and neatly starched cloth. It elicited a moan from her lips.

Satisfied with her current state, the point man released her hands and embraced her, deepening the kiss.

When the break came, she was slightly dizzy from the intensity of it all and looked at him with no small amount of curiosity.

"I wanted my first kiss of the new year."

"Oh." She glanced down, "That doesn't explain this."

The point man didn't say a word, but instead reached behind her and took hold of her zipper. It went down with ease and the soft midnight blue fabric of her dress fell and pooled around her feet.

Arthur devoured the sight of her, relishing that she hadn't worn hose or stockings that evening. That look in his eyes was unmistakable and she still blushed even after all this time, "What about Alex? He's just down the hall."

"He won't wake up."

She still looked hesitant and he decided not to let a baseless fear spoil the evening, "Kiss me."

Ariadne eagerly complied.

Her lover's hands moved down her body, letting the fingers find every curve until they came to rest on her backside. There, they created bruises as he lifted her up onto the counter. When the cold marble touched her flesh, she had to stop herself from gasping aloud.

Instead, she found her mouth occupied again. Sitting just on the edge of the stone, her feet dangle inches above the floor, toes stretched in anticipation.

His mouth moved down to her neck, nipping at the soft flesh, marking it with raised red skin. Fingers found the straps on her underwear, and they came away from her.

She was laid naked in the moonlight, beautiful creature that she was to him, and he depended on the whims of the clouds to reveal the various parts of her body that he wanted to worship.

Ariadne shivered, even with his hot breath on her skin. His kisses trailed down further and forced her to take in a quick breath when he found her breast.

"Oh god!" It was little more than a fevered whisper into the otherwise quiet house.

At this moment, the point man was only serving himself. Being stripped in the dark was all the incentive Ariadne's body had needed, and he knew it.

His hands pushed her back to lay across the table, her brown hair falling over the edge. She couldn't see anything, only feel, and her heart jumped at being at his mercy. She had placed her full trust in him long ago, and whether it was a blindfold or the cover of night, it was always her pleasure to surrender.

Lips brushed over her stomach, kissing the ever soft flesh there, then went further. Her hips, her thighs, and then claimed the subject of their original intent.

Another strangled gasp in the middle of the night; another smirk on his face.

The point man treated her body as a musical instrument, playing it, caressing it, demanding what he wanted from it. His tongue worked in harmony with his long fingers, tapping out carnal notes that made the architect writhe and pant.

Arthur demanded perfection from himself, and he'd be damned if he hadn't studied every inch of her.

"Arthur!" It was a cry that was almost too loud. With her fingers wrapped around the edge of the table, her chest rose and fell as she came down from the heights. A bead of sweat ran down from her temple.

Everything was quiet again, and despite her still being out of breath, her blood pulsing in her ears, she listened to see if they had accidentally woken him.

Silence.

She gave Arthur her hand and he pulled her up into a sitting position before taking her lips again. This time, they were burning and slick and the cold air of the kitchen couldn't touch her.

Her hands freed, she went to work on his belt, pulling the leather strap loose from its holds and throwing it to the floor. She made shorter work of the button and zipper and with legs that still felt like jelly, she used her feet to tug the fabric away. The boxers took a little more careful maneuvering, but she grinned against his lips as she negotiated it.

"Want me to return the favor?" She allowed her tongue to slip past his lips so he could catch her full meaning.

"No."

His response startled her, and she pulled away and looked at him, "Why not?"

The point man leaned in close, and she felt his manhood brushed against her. His point was instantly understood.

"Do you have something?"

"No." There was another long kiss, but she couldn't fully engage.

"No?" His lips returned to her throat, but this time, they took her with a hard passion, it was as painful as it was pleasurable, "You're not worried?"

"Worried?" He chuckled and she swore she could feel the vibration on her skin, "Maybe we'll get a girl this time."

Ariadne barely had time to process what he'd said. Arthur did nothing with reckless abandon, except perhaps herself. He must have been paying attention when she'd mused to her friend on the phone last week how much she'd like a baby sister for Alexander.

When he sheathed himself inside her, she bit her lip to keep from screaming. She wrapped one arm around him and leaned back on the other. Her ankles locked together around the small of his back and her hair hung about her eyes in a wild, wet tangle. He practically growled at how wanton she appeared.

There would never be a time from now on in that he would see her preparing food and not want to ravish her.

She detached herself from her pleasure for a moment to look at him. He appeared to be in no great rush to end their evening. There was an animalistic look in his eyes, firmly restrained by his ever present self-control.

At some point that night, it would break free and she would suffer the consequences willingly.

Nothing would ever make her run from him again.


End file.
